Fallen Hero
by kateofallpeople
Summary: Harry's lost in a bottle, and Hermione's lost in her plans to bring him back out. He is her best friend, after all. And so what if she can't quite discern the fine line between friendship and something much more? She's here to comfort him. Thats all.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Wrote half of this first chapter and my browser messed up and didn't save. Sad! Anyway, if you follow me at all you'll know that I'm starting these two new fics, then I'll be getting back into the swing of things and continuing my others as well. I was off FFnet for about seven months, it was a bad time haha but I'm back and hopefully better than ever! I worked a bit on regular not-fan fiction over the last months, writing out of spiral notebooks and restaurant napkins, and it has improved my writing a bit. I'm going to be exploring a few new ships in the coming months, while also jumping farther into my favorites. Okay, this one takes place in the year after the war. Harry is lost in a bottle, and Hermione wants nothing more than to see him smile again. She can't possibly understand how he's feeling, but he can't possibly understand just how much she cares about him. Ron wants to help too, until he realizes Hermione has other motives in helping Harry. Crazy fanfic drama ensues. Enjoy! **

She sees him in the corner booth. It's funny, though. When he comes in alone, no one bothers him. They let him be, nursing whatever drink he's been brought (on the house, of course, or courtesy of anyone and everyone who recognizes him). She sighs, recognzing the furrowed brow, the bitten lip, the blank stare. He's been here for a while. She has taken care to remain unnoticed - as soon as another member of 'The Golden Trio' joins Harry at one of his usual haunts, they swarm. It has become something of a sport - retrieve Harry before the rest of the wizarding world can recognize that they've seen both of your faces on the cover of every paper and publication for the last four months. Brilliant.

She crosses the pub quickly, the rowdy crowd not noticing the blur of grey and black slide into the booth beside Harry Potter.

"Harry. It's time to go."

He doesn't respond. He doesn't even move. He's not in a good state, but she tells herself that at least they haven't called her in this time, at least he's not on the floor or at St. Mungos. At least he's mostly stopped making a nuisance out of both of them.

"Harry, this is the third time this week I've come to get you. I'm making an effort. This isn't you. It's time to leave."

He turns his head then to look at her, and she barely recognizes him. His black hair has gotten shaggy to the point of resembling his Godfather's just before his death - long, unkempt, slightly dirty. His green eyes are made even more prominent by the fact that what should be pure white around them is shocked with red, and his cheeks are on fire as well. He blinks, just once. She takes this as an agreement.

"Can you walk? I'm parked just outside, in the alley."

He nods and scoots out of the booth wordlessly. She stands quickly before him, taking his arm and making it look as if they're strolling through any normal pub at eleven in the morning. As if this wasn't a problem. When they reach her car, she opens his door. She has to help him inside. She hands him the buckle of the seatbelt and once he's finished, he slumps against the window, his eyes fluttering shut. She gets in on her side and glances over at him with a sigh. This is not the first time she has picked him up from this particular place, nor will it be the last. She was lucky to have seen his car in the parking lot. He could have been here all day. She starts the car and heads towards her flat. She's staring straight ahead, tears begging to spring forth and ruin her strong facade.

* * *

She has spent another weekday morning sitting beside him in her bathroom. His face is lost somewhere in her toilet, arms encircling his head. She can't believe she had to do this again - call into work, where she was actually a healer, to doctor her friend back to a somewhat normal state. She was cross-legged on her own bathroom floor in her work attire. She had been for an hour. He finally sat back, leaning against the wall.

"'Mione...?"

"Who else. Are you done?" He nods, and she wets a cloth for him to clean himself up with. "Good. Not as bad as last time, then. Harry, we need to talk about this."

"Not now... later." The look on his face breaks her heart. He can barely comprehend the situation anyway. She helps him up and to her kitchen, coffee already brewed. It has become a routine, on mornings like this. Lead Harry to the bathroom. While he starts, start coffee the muggle way and get a light breakfast going by magic. Rejoin Harry. Pat his back and comfort him through the worst of it. Call work to explain. Get Harry up and fed and somewhat sober. Watch him for a few hours. Feel utter despair when he leaves again, knowing he'll be back at it again within a day or two.

When he does leave, finally alright to apparate on his own, she cries. More than cries - she breaks down. This is not her best friend anymore. This is not Harry. This is some monster, some pathetic replica of the strong, caring, funny, passionate young man she has come to call one of the people closest to her. She climbs back into bed around three in the afternoon and does not rise again until she receives his apology via owl around seven.

_Hermione,_

_I don't know why you still put up with me. I want to make things up to you. I want to change. I'll pick you up at 9 sharp. Dress nicely._

_Harry_

She almost stays in bed. She almost pens a reply telling him she won't see him again until he has stopped, for sure. These nights of him making it up to her. It's the same thing. It's not the first, but it surely isn't the last either. She rolls out of bed and into the shower. Funny, he's the one making plans and now she's the one who feels hungover, or at least like she's been clubbed over the head with a beater's bat.

* * *

He's there at 9:20, hair a little long but at least clean. He put on a good show for someone who had his head in the toilet less than twelve hours before. She'd put on a dress, something she hadn't done since Slughorn's Christmas party over a year and a half ago. When she opened the door, he grinned. She missed that grin.

"'Mione. I want to apologize... I've been a right prat lately. I shouldn't be doing this. But I'm not just going to say I'm sorry. It's a lot bigger than I thought. Look, let's just enjoy tonight, okay? And see how things go from there."

It was almost verbatim to what he'd told her a few nights ago. She doubted that he remembered much of that. It was with a heavy heart that she let him lead her to his car and to a nicer restaurant closer to the city. She wouldn't let him get drinks with dinner. She wouldn't agree to go out afterwards, either. She'd suggest a movie, or just relaxing at her flat. It was impossible to spend time with him, but she couldn't tear herself away, either. In short, it was an absolute disaster. She put on the fake smile anyway. When he grabs her hand and leads her into the restaurant, the smile becomes real again, if only for a moment.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Not much to say. I'm hoping to start getting some better traffic on these. This story is really rocky right now, I know, but as the story develops, so will the narration. I promise it'll kinda make sense eventually. Enjoy? Maybe...**

**

* * *

**At least he's speaking. That's all she can tell though, that his mouth is opening and closing, and that those seated around him in the small booth are listening as if it's the most important thing they've ever heard. Since it's probably the story of the final battle - the one that is the reason half of those people are still alive and well - it probably is just that. Ron is seated beside him. She can just see the shock of red hair behind the burly one sitting next to him. As usual, if Ron or herself shows up, people find it acceptable to join the party. If they'd ever shown up together, there would probably be an actual crowd. She shuddered at the idea - not at the crowd, but at being in close contact with Ron at the moment. It was terribly difficult to spend quality time with your supposed boyfriend when you were actually in love with his best friend. She continues walking, only a slight doubt in her mind that Ron will take Harry safely home and make sure he doesn't get too bad. She'll have to ask him when she finally gives in to seeing him.

* * *

She receives an owl that night. It's Ron.

_Hermione, _

_Found Harry again today, not in as bad shape as he has been. Heard you saw him earlier this week. He told me he doesn't know what he'd do without you. I know the feeling. Dinner tonight? I can pick you up around 8. _

_Ron_

The only thing she could say for Ron was that after the war, he'd stopped with the dimwitted nonsense. He'd at least acted more intelligent, in some move to make her like him more or for some other reason she was not sure. It was almost worse, hearing from him and not having to decipher a mess of grammar and cute talk. She almost, when she heard him, wished that she didn't feel like she did. Almost.

* * *

"I saw him walk in and decided it best to follow. It wasn't like you'd be waiting for him there or anything."

She'd turned down Ron's requests for a date for four days. It was finally time to see him.

"It was lucky that you caught him walking in. Had he been drinking?"

"Not at all, and it was nearly five. That must be a new record for him."

"It's possible." She thought about seeing Harry the night before. She thought about his empty promises - perhaps he had had a good day. It had happened before. In fact, at one point he'd been sober for two weeks. That stopped as soon as Ginny started whatever nonsense she was on about that week. It was Hermione's first instinct to judge Ginny for not being there for her boyfriend, for not caring enough about him. She stopped herself immediately. She was a damn hypocrite, and she knew it.

"It is. By the way, I spoke to my sister today." While Hermione was pondering the irony, she missed the first bit of what Ron said.

"... all she would say was that she just couldn't handle it anymore. Do you know what I mean?"

Hermione nodded, shoving a forkful of pasta into her mouth. She had to busy herself. She had to keep from saying something rude about Ginny to her brother, even if he knew she was being selfish, and in general, because she was much more guilty herself than a girl who was stressed over an alcoholic boyfriend.

"And on top of it all, he doesn't make a single effort to see her. Do you believe that? After everything they've talked about going through, just to be together... it's ridiculous. He told me one night, when we were in the forest last year. I was on watch and he came to sit with me. He talked about her for nearly an hour, and I was astounded that he even knew that much about her. That he still cared for her that much. Here we were, no contact with any of them for months, and he's still in love. And now what? He has her, he has everything, and he's doing... whatever he's doing."

This sparked Hermione's interest. Harry and Ginny were having troubles, then? With another shake of the head, she pushed the idea from her mind. She was sitting across from her boyfriend, for gods' sake. From Harry's best friend. This was madness. She took another forkful of pasta. Despite Ron being able to speak more intelligently, he obviously didn't carry enough social competence to notice that she'd barely said a word through dinner.

* * *

It was four-thirty in the morning. Surely she hadn't just heard what she thought she heard. But there it was again - a rumbling in her bathroom. Had someone broken in? The idea was frightening. She slowly slipped out of bed, wrapping her robe around herself - she'd only worn her underthings to bed, it was a warm night - and tiptoed down the hall to see the door cracked open, light spilling through.

If there was one thing Hermione was, it was thourough. And she had never, ever left a light on when she went to bed. There was a movement inside, and then the sound of someone getting sick. Oh. That explained things, sort of.

She nudged the door open with her slipper to see the shaggy dark head bent over her toilet. It wasn't an unusual sight, and the thought made her heart ache. He sputtered and sat up again, a glass of water precariously perched on the sink above him. She pushed the door harder, slipping through the small space and shutting it behind her.

"Hermione... I just... I don't..."

She couldn't quiet him. What on earth was he doing in her flat at this time? Why didn't he go to his own place? Hadn't Ron owled her so cheerfully this morning to let her know that Harry and Ginny were going out tonight, attempting to fix things? Why wasn't she with him?

She sat down beside him and he rolled his head back, bumping on the wall behind him. He turned to the wall and mumbled something, then proceeded to get sick on the floor beside himself. Fantastic. Hermione grabbed a towel from the hamper and threw it over the mess before Harry spoke to her again. She couldn't very well be upset about him apparating into her apartment and getting sick in her bathroom when he looked so helpless.

"I couldn't be... at home. She's mad at me, really mad at me. I think she left me. I don't really remember."

"Shhh. Just finish your business. We'll talk about it later."

Even nodding his head made him dizzy. He shot out a hand to her for balance before leaning forward over the toilet again, the sound of dry heaving echoing through the room, through the ventilation system.

It took a moment for Hermione to realize the strength in which Harry had grabbed her hand, and the way. Their fingers were interlaced, his thumb hooked tight around hers. He heaved for a moment more, then loosened his hold but did not let go. After wiping his face on his sleeve (disgusting) he slumped over onto Hermione, the flush of her face feeling much more than 'apparent'. She kept his hand in hers, and with the other ran through his hair, over his back. She lowered her head to rest side by side on his, his shallow breathing shaking the both of them. He was done now, there was nothing left for him to expel. After a moments rest she helped him to his feet again and to the couch, where she might watch a film with his head resting in her lap.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Still working on this, it's taking a while to get into the swing of things. This chapter or next, something pretty big is going to happen that is going to set off the story. Much longer chapter - twice, almost three times as long as the previous ones. Hope you enjoy!**

**

* * *

**She'd fallen asleep on the couch. It was a Thursday, which meant no work, but it was nearly eleven in the morning, which meant she _still_ hadn't gotten the full eight hours of sleep. Leaning against the end of the couch, she instantly became aware of a warm body fit close in behind hers, a hand resting on the flat of her stomach. Reaching back to find the head of hair, she ran her fingers through it, but was surprised when the usual short ginger hair was longer than it should have been. Much longer. She did not sit up too quickly, but turned her head halfway. Black hair. Right. Harry. He'd shown up in the middle of the night. She'd sat down to watch a movie with his head in her lap, and apparently he had drifted as she had fallen asleep. She hadn't meant to do that, and she was sure Harry hadn't meant to hold her so closely like that, unless he was asleep when he did so.

Her breath, like a warm breeze across his face drew him from slumber. She noticed his eyelashes fluttering, and turned her head back as if she were still sleeping. His sharp intake of breath and subsequent release made the hair on her neck stand on end. His face was half buried in her hair, and he mumbled mixed feelings, looked around, and sighed.

"Hermione's again. This is too much, she shouldn't be doing this." She felt his hand rub up and down again, against her side. It did not leave. His soft whisper came again. "'Mione. You're too good for me. I mean, too good to me. I don't even know what makes me come here, every time. And imagine if Ron saw this. We'd both be in for it..." She felt his head rest behind hers again, and her eyes flew open. He wasn't moving, then? He didn't jump away? And what had he meant about _we'd both be in for it_? Well though, obviously if Ron saw... and what if Ron saw? What if Ron apparated into the apartment at that very moment, to see Hermione peacefully 'sleeping' on the couch, his best friend curled in behind her, pulling her closer? Hermione couldn't even imagine. She decided to spent ten minutes here, to enjoy those ten minutes to the fullest, and then to get up, wake Harry, and carry on with the day.

Ten minutes passed and she couldn't bring herself to stand. She could not force herself to move his hand from her hip, to stand away from his warm, strong body. But she had to do it. As soon as she did, he sat up behind her.

"'Mione, how long have you really been awake?"

"What are you talking about? I just now stood up, and I woke you up."

"Did not. I was talking to you, a moment ago. You would have woken up."

"Oh... I was just relaxing, okay? Can't a girl sleep in?"

"Most girls don't sleep with their boyfriend's best friend." The wrong connotation of the sentence came through first, and Hermione's face was immediately red. "'Mione, you know what I meant."

"Honestly, Harry." She took a moment to form a proper response and found none. "Anyway, look, it's just past eleven. You showed up just past four in the morning. You were supposed to be with Ginny last night."

"And I was. You have to believe me on that. I'm a little hazy on the details, but we walked down Diagon Alley for old times sake, and I took her to dinner... we fought. I'm pretty sure she left me."

"How are you 'pretty sure'?"

"She told me I had better stay away from her until I stopped this shit, or she'd call the ministry and officials would show up and it would cause a huge scene, and I couldn't do anything about that. Can you imagine the headlines?"

"Things like 'Fallen Hero abandoned on date'? 'Boy-who-lived bashed between courses'?"

"You and Rita Skeeter should have tea, then..."

"Harry, I'm going to ask you this and you had better answer me honestly. At that point, had you been drinking that night?"

He fell silent. Hermione was set to accuse him of being drunk and taking out his girlfriend, she was set to blame it on him, but he turned to her, tears in his eyes.

"I hadn't had a drink since Ron picked me up three days ago. I'd been trying to stop. And she left me. Sober and broken."

He turned away again, and Hermione stepped towards him, arms already out. She wrapped them around his middle, burying her face into his back and holding him.

"Harry, I'm so sorry."

He turned to face her, hugged her tight, and nothing else in the world mattered.

* * *

Her phone rang in her pocket. She glanced at Harry at the counter, paying for the ice cream. The screen read 'Ron'. Oh, this couldn't turn out well. She thought for a moment to ignore the call, but that would only cause even more of a problem. She flipped it open and pressed it to her hear, hoping her cupped hand over the thick black plastic bottom would keep Ron from hearing the cheerful music or Harry's approaching voice. She held a finger to him to be quite, and replaced her hand.

"Ron, hello."

"Hermione. Where have you been? I owled you early this morning and got no reply... and of all people, I don't expect a late response from you..."

"Don't worry too much about it, Ron. I had the morning off. I slept in."

"Past eleven?"

"Nearly. It was a long night."

"I guess. Anyway, what are you up to tonight? I've missed you, and there's a new film out I'd like to see..."

"I'm kind of busy tonight. I'm... seeing an old friend." She glanced up to see Harry, half smirking and half confused. He mouthed one word - _Ron?_ - and she nodded, rolling her eyes.

"Oh, who?"

"Someone who... lived next to my parents, when I was younger. Yes. I have to go, she's here now, and it's terribly rude to stay on the phone. I'll owl or call when I'm home."

"Okay. I love you."

"You too. Bye!" She flipped the phone shut and stuffed it into her purse.

"That was Ron, right?"

"Yes Harry, it was."

"Then why did you lie to him?"

The thought hadn't crossed her mind. Why couldn't she tell Ron she was spending the evening with Harry? Why couldn't she spend time with one of her good friends? She quickly realized that she didn't want Ron to show up. She didn't want to see him. She was hiding seeing Harry, the fact that she slept next to him when he needed comfort. Well, the second one she'd always hide. But why hide? The answer was so simple, and yet so complicated. She couldn't tell Ron because despite the fact that she didn't want to be with him, she loved him. She'd never be able to change that he was her first love. Her first everything, really. And while she hated that she had feelings for Harry, she couldn't change those either.

"I don't know, really. Doesn't really matter now though. What flavor did you get?"

Harry eyed her curiously but passed the ice cream over anyway. She was glad to have a friend that didn't ask too many questions. She'd never have to give him answers he might not want to hear.

* * *

It's not like she'd always had feelings for Harry, as she had for Ron. It had come on gradually. While she and Ron's relationship had been easy to fortell since their first year at Hogwarts, the expected thing - that she was in love with Harry - hadn't been true. Since Ron and Harry had saved her from the troll on Halloween - they had just been eleven then, hadn't they? - they'd stuck together. But while Ron had always been sneaking grins, asking for help, making jokes, and endlessly pestering her about nothing - Harry had just been there for her. He had been _her_ person to go to, her best friend, her confidant. He had always appreciated her smarts, and had on multiple occasions commented on her beauty. She'd let these things pass at the time. That's what friends were for, right?

When Ron left them last year on the hunt for Horcruxes, she couldn't have been more heartbroken. Ron was lazy and selfish, yes, but she never thought he'd abandon the two of them together. There were days and nights where her and Harry wouldn't speak at all - he'd only bring her something warm to drink when she was on patrol, and she'd do the same in turn for him. And when Ron returned, things were back to normal. Now Ron brought her drinks Harry hinted he should make, and she sat with him sometimes when he was on watch. Very rarely did she sit out with Harry, the biting cold threatening to coax her back into the tent. She could remember one night she had, however, and it had started something...

_"Hermione, do you ever think of how much this war is going to change things?"_

_"Well of course, Harry, but it's going to happen either way. Hopefully we just find the Horcruxes so that it changes things in a good way."_

_"I don't mean like that. I mean for our friends and everything. What if we don't find all the Horcruxes? We don't know much about the last of them." _

_"We'll find them. I don't think Voldemort has much more to do, no real reason to act, until he knows for sure that we've found them all. He thinks he's still safe. And as for our friends... I'm not sure. When the war is over, we'll be getting flooded with questions... and I don't even want to answer. I just want to relax. I just want to have a butterbeer, take a hot shower, and maybe read until the end of the century. Is that too much to ask?"_

_"Probably. What do you think Ron is going to be like after all this? I mean, he's my best friend, and all, but you and I both know he's not the strongest of the bunch."_

_"I'm not sure about Ron. He's back now, he seems like he's really sorry and he's all in, but he worries about his family. This war could really mess him up."_

_"I'm afraid of that too. And I'm afraid that Ginny and I won't really work out. I think she thinks that I'm just going to win the war and prance over to the Burrow, and stay there with her forever. She's still got another year of school. I just don't know if everyone else will be able to handle these things. We have to look out for them, first. We're strong enough, Hermione. You and I. We've got this under control." _

He'd eat his words now, if he wasn't already eating so much ice cream. When Hermione returned home that night, she found Ron's owl on her windowsill, two letters attached. The first was from this morning, asking no more than her plans for the day. The second, however, was different, though Hermione would not even open it. Harry had come home with her again in an attempt to keep himself away from a bar, and she was going to spend the rest of the evening with her best friend.

* * *

"I mean, do you remember the way she always used to single me out in class? Tell me I was in for grave danger and everything? She was right, in the end, but still mad as a hatter."

"Oh Harry, I'd love to disagree with you, but she was absolutely bonkers."

"You're only agreeing this time because she told you that you were no good at Divination."

She flipped her head quicky to face him, and he laughed. "For your information, without my brain we wouldn't have been alive half the time on that search for Horcruxes. I'm just more book smart than anything, I don't see the point of looking into a big ball of crystal or damp tea leaves!"

"Right... I never did properly thank you, Hermione. You and Ron... mostly you, though... you stuck with me even when I told you to stay back. You were my biggest supporter over that year, despite Potterwatch or anything else. Because you were there with me. And I never thanked you for that."

The smile fell from both of their faces, but she blushed. "Oh honestly, Harry, it's nothing... we're your friends."

"But even Ron left. And Ron is my best friend. But you stayed." He took a step closer and put his hands on her shoulders, bent at the elbows. They were inches apart. But of course, what she was wanting most wouldn't happen. She looked up at Harry, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Oh, come here Harry. I'm glad to see you're back to yourself again. I want you to stay this way. That's how you'll thank me."

He smiled and held her close for a moment. She realized she'd been holding on entirely too long before clearing her throat and stepping a half step away. "Let's see what's on television, then. I'll make tea."

He shook his head and fell back onto the couch. When she returned, there was very little space left. "Make some room, these mugs are hot..."

"Set them on the table, you're just going to have to lay across my lap. I have to stretch my legs, all that walking today made them feel funny."

"Walking much at all since the end of the war has been weird on my legs too, they always tingle, like they don't remember how to walk for very long at all."

She sat beside him and leaned back towards the side of the couch, but he caught her and held her tight to his chest. "Thank you, Hermione."

She settled in and smiled, the credits just beginning to start.

_"We're going to have to finish this, one way or another Gene."_

_"One of us is going to end up dead, Sally. You know that." _

_"It's worth it. For the good of the people."_

The movie hadn't been terribly interesting, and yet as the intensity was building, Hermione found herself scooting closer and closer to Harry. She found that she fit quite well curled up against his side, her head on his shoulder. At one point her hand had run over his chest, down, and onto his leg, and he'd scooped it up with one of his own in an instant. When she was painfully reminded by her own thoughts that it was probably reaction, that he probably thought she was Ginny, she sighed but did not let go. At least she had it, for now. It was just before the most interesting point in the movie - the one before one of the main characters dies, and the other one has to make the choice to carry on as planned - that Hermione heard a shuffle outside the door. Curious, she moved to look through the window, but Harry held her down by her hand and her side.

"Shh. This is where it gets good."

So he knew it was her hand then. And he'd held it anyway. It was, surely, a gesture of friendship. The thought made her face fall again, until there was a loud crack and a flash of ginger hair.

"Hermione? Wha-what's Harry doing here?"

Hermione, startled and guilty, sat bolt upright with wide eyes and an explanation already in her head.

"He's trying to keep himself out of the bar. Once I left my friend, I ran into him near the Leaky Cauldron and he looked about ready to go in. I took him here. But he's been sober three days, and I just wanted him to... to be okay."

Ron looked back and forth between his best friend and his girlfriend, the doubt on his face apparent. "Why did you leave your friend so early? It's still only nine..."

"She had to go home. One of her... children was sick. Yes. And she had to leave."

"You should have called me."

"I intended on it as soon as I got home... honestly Ronald, why are you throwing such a fit over Harry being here?"

"It's not so much that he was here, as that he was closer to you than you've let me be in weeks."

"We were watching a film."

"And we did the same at my flat a few weeks ago and you sat in a chair on the other side of the room."

"I don't have any chairs here..."

"Hermione, enough. I came to check on you because I still hadn't heard from you."

"Weren't you just saying it was early?"

"Well, yes, but..."

"But what? Thought you'd sneak over and check up on me anyway? Ron, this is ridiculous..."

Harry finally groaned and spoke up over their argument. "Will the both of you please, just shut up? Ron, she was keeping me out of the bar. And you're getting angry about it? Honestly. Yes, we're sitting close together, and it's because I needed someone to be there. Your sister left me last night, and unless you wanted to hold me close, Hermione was my option. Okay?"

Ron looked crestfallen. "Ginny left you?"

"She claimed I'd been drinking again. I'd been sober three days, I was just happy to see her..."

Hermione stood and left the room, stopping just inside the turn of the hallway and sliding down against the wall. She listened to them talk and argue for a few minutes before quarreling over which one should leave. Ron wanted to stay because she was his girlfriend. Harry wanted to stay to get away from a bar and because he'd already been here, Ron had no place kicking him out of someone else's home. She heard a loud crack that meant someone had apparated out, and waited to hear one of them in the sitting room. Moments later though, she turned her head around the corner only to see that nobody was left at all.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: I'm so pleased to be hearing such good things about this fic. It's something I started on a whim, I typed up the summary and simultaneously planned most of the story within five minutes, just for the sake of it being my second new story to start at the time. Now I'm fascinated with it. It's going to take an interesting turn or two over the next few chapters, to say the least. I'm going to say now that despite the events in another fic of mine, Take Two, this is probably my most 'drama filled' fic. As you saw in chapter three, things are already starting to get a little weird, and I expect this fic to last at least fifteen chapters. Possibly more. Anyway, I also want to thank everyone, but especially DREWHHR for the reviews, which have been wonderful and have helped me grow and change things about this fic already. Enjoy! **

When she realized that her flat was once again empty, Hermione couldn't decide between feeling utterly alone and absolutely confused. Where had Harry gone? And Ron? And what was it that they had said in hushed tones before the crack of their apparition? Honestly, didn't she deserve some sort of explanation, here? She owled Harry and Ron separate but identical letters. If her assumptions were correct, the single crack just meant that they'd apparated somewhere together. Why not separate, she didn't know, and almost didn't want to ask. She would never in a million years understand the actions of Harry and Ron. Ever.

_Just wondering what happened, where you are, and if everything is alright. Let me know, please. -Hermione_

She doubted she would hear back from either of them soon, but instead got both replies together. So they _were _together. Even now, half an hour after. What on earth could be going on?

_Hermione, Ron's stuck me at The Burrow and won't let me out until I tell him what happened. He thinks we're involved, and no matter how much I protest he thinks I'm lying to him. Could you try talking some sense into him? I'm quite tired, even though we slept in late. - Harry_

Seeing that Harry openly denied that they were involved, even if they weren't, deflated her excitement slightly. Of course she hadn't been expecting him to write and profess feelings for her, to encourage her to leave Ron for him, but a girl could dream, couldn't she? She set down the letter and picked up Ron's.

_I walk in to find you both cozy on the couch, and I just want the truth. Was anything going on? I'd rather have you tell me than lie, I can handle it. I grabbed Harry and apparated home to try and ask him, sorry for not telling you I guess. -Ron_

So, Ron had gone and made a fool of himself again. It figured. But she'd made one of herself as well, allowing her imagination to get carried away enough to think Harry had had a secret motive for sleeping in such close contact with her the night before. They were all fools, in the end. She wrote a letter back to Ron explaining that there was nothing to explain, that she was keeping him out of the bars and he'd snuggled up and accidentally even called her Ginny (though he hadn't) and that he just needed the comfort. Ron might not believe Harry, but he would always believe Hermione. He could never bring himself to think she could ever lie to him. She considered it a blessing for the day and sent the owl on its way.

* * *

"That was rubbish. Wasn't it rubbish?" Harry's voice was a little slippery over the phone, a little muddled.

"Harry, have you been drinking?"

"I had a little firewhiskey. An excellent bottle, gift from an admirer. Just a drink or two. But Hermione, he kept me at the burrow that night even for half an hour after that, making sure our stories matched up or something. I made up a line about me accidentally calling you Ginny. A week later he still barely believes me."

She couldn't help but laugh at that. "I did the same thing, actually. Wow. We really could have messed it up with that one."

"I don't see why we should have had to, though. Hermione, you're one of my best friends. Ron should know, we couldn't be like that. We never could."

The laugh and smile were gone again, just like that. He had no idea what he did to her. None at all. "I suppose. Look, Harry, I've got a patient to take care of. I get off in a few hours. What are you doing after work?"

"Meeting up with Ron first, before he meets up with Arthur. I left my coat at his place. What are you doing while he's gone?"

"Nothing at all. Want to come over for a while?"

"It's better than tempting myself at the Leaky Cauldron. I'll be there at eight." She heard the click that meant he'd hung up, and she clicked her own phone shut and set it down in front of her. She wasn't taking care of a patient right now, she was doing paperwork, but if she'd have stayed on the phone longer with him, she wouldn't get any of it done due to daydreaming about the "What ifs" of life. As it was, a hazy mental picture of moving in with Harry filled her thoughts. It was bad enough that she'd agreed to see him, but how could she not?

* * *

"So, let me get this straight. Ron showed up, we had a confrontation, you two exchanged a few words, and then he apparated the both of you to the burrow."

"Essentially, yes. It was probably for the best, we had a rather loud row about it for a few minutes when we got there, Molly came upstairs and asked if anyone had hurt each other. I had half a mind to smack him, going on like he did. What's his problem, lately?"

"He's just getting... restless about things. About you, a bit, but about me as well."

"Why would he be getting short with you?"

"Oh he never really gets short with me... he's not angry at me, I suppose, but our relationship hasn't been the best lately..." She was hoping Harry would take the hint. He wasn't. "We just haven't been the same, the last few weeks. I mean, I guess we were always headed towards ending up together when we were young, but things are different after the war. I'm working a lot of the time, you're both doing Auror training and working, he and I don't spend much time together. And when we do..."

"It feels like just friends? That's what Ginny said to me before she left me. I've been remembering bits of it."

Hermione made a connection in her head from Ginny to leaving Harry, to herself leaving Ron, to what she hoped might be a happy ending... until Harry spoke up again between picking at his dinner.

"I wish I wasn't remembering it. Honestly, I thought we were doing alright and she apparently had other ideas. It's been nearly five months, and we were really kind of together for a while before that, even when the three of us were gone... you think she'd fight through it a little bit."

Hermione had the urge to tell Harry that she could see where Ginny was coming from - when you lost feelings for someone, you couldn't really get them back very easily, if at all. And Harry had been a right prat after all, with the drinking. Instead, she took a forkful of pasta and shrugged while he continued on.

"...and really, Ron needs to stop being insecure. You know the both of you aren't at the best of times, but you're meant to be together."

Hearing Harry said that she was meant to be with anyone but himself was painful. "I don't know though, Harry. We lead different lives now. Maybe that's just another reason you and Ginny didn't work out well. She goes back to school in a few weeks anyway, and that wouldn't work out very well."

"I forgot about that. I suppose it is for the best. And if you aren't happy... why don't you tell him?"

"Now I know what Ginny's feeling. How do you tell the person you've had feelings towards for years, the person you're finally with, that it's all for nothing? That it just isn't working out?"

"I can see that being difficult."

"It's bloody impossible, or I would have already." _And then possibly, I would be free to hopefully change your mind about me. _

"I can't do much for you on that one. Even if he's been acting strange lately, he's still my best mate."

Something about the way he said it, made Hermione think. "Ron's been acting strange lately?"

"Well, not... a little. Damn, I wasn't going to say anything, I was hoping you wouldn't catch that."

"How has he been acting strange?"

"He resents me, obviously, for having to clean up my messes the past few months. Even on good days, I was an emotional disaster, and he sat there and listened. You did too of course, tenfold, but Ron's not... that type. D'you know what I mean? And on top of it all, that night last week... he walked in at a bad time, obviously."

"At least he didn't walk in before we woke up. That would have been a rather compromising position."

Harry chewed and swallowed, then pointed his fork at her. "That's true. That would have been a disaster, us sleeping on the couch together. Then he would have known I'd spent the night. Can you imagine trying to explain that one?"

She let out a nervous laugh and cleared their plates, an idea soon consuming her head. She had a bottle of wine somewhere, she could bring it out... she would be a terrible person for doing so, but Harry had been doing well, and they both needed a little cheering up, after all.

"Harry, check on dessert, will you? I think I have a bottle of wine stashed somewhere back here..."

"The pie's done, you want me to take it out?"

"Please do, there are mitts in the bottom drawer." She realized with a start and a frown that she could get used to Harry being there, to him taking out pies when they were done and listening to her ramble on about things. "I'll get glasses, you cut that and get plates. You know where those are." Harry did as told, and Hermione took the bottle and two glasses to the coffee table in front of the television. They could eat dessert, watch a movie or two, make quick work of the bottle of wine, and then things would be fine. She was hoping the wine would take her edge off, she hadn't been able to sit still since he'd shown up.

#

The wine did it's work, two or three glasses in she was noticeably calmer, as was he. He was thrown lazily across the couch, and she was curled up and half in his lap, their faces just a foot apart. The first movie ended, and she reached for the remote to look for another one, or else find one she already owned. She'd always loved muggle movies, she'd grown up watching them and held a fascination with them any time she was home from Hogwarts. She wondered, as most young women did, what it might be like for her to date a muggle movie star, to have everyone know your name. She realized with a chuckle that she already had that part of the deal - she couldn't walk anywhere without anyone and everyone saying hello or thanking her for her valiant efforts in the war, or whatever else it was they came up with. Harry looked at her.

"Something funny?"

"Just realized something. Never you mind. This looks alright, what do you think?"

"I think I'm done watching movies, actually." She assumed this to mean he would leave, but he made no move to do so. "I think we should just talk. We talked a little, but I don't think we really got into things. I'll start. How long has it been since you've kissed ron?"

She was expecting a million questions, but not that one. "Well, I don't know, really... Harry, goodness. Your glass is empty. One more. She filled it, but he did not let up on his question.

"Seriously, 'Mione. I've seen the two of you together plenty, here or when you both came to pick me up that one time, that was a disaster... you ran. And I don't think I've seen you snog more than once."

He was right. She didn't think she remembered snogging Ron more than ten times total in the last few months. They'd been busy of course, even when they were happy, and then they just drifted... it wasn't something she liked thinking about. Not when the cause of her drifting was halfway wrapped around her, staring at her like... well, she didn't know what.

"I don't think we did. I think it's been about a month. Am I terrible?"

"Gods no. I just don't know how to react to it. I want you both to be happy, but I don't know if that's together or wherever. And you haven't been terribly happy lately, why is that?"

She wanted, as usual, to blurt it all out. To tell him she was miserable with Ron, that she had feelings for him, however strong they were, and that they were making her downright gloomy most days. She couldn't sleep. She only smiled when she was with him or thinking of him. It was more than liking him, it was downright infatuation, and she couldn't help it. Instead she made up something about stress at work and the deteriorating situation with Ron.

"I guess I'd just always imagined you two being happy because, really, how else did I want to see it? You're my best mates. And I admit, I haven't been the most clear thinker over the past few months..."

"That's an understatement, Harry. And besides, I know you want us to be happy. I've just been thinking lately that Ron is not the one I should be with." _That, the one I should be with, that's you. _

They fell asleep together on the couch again. In the morning, when they woke, Harry did not move or speak, only ran a hand over Hermione's hair, her shoulder, her arm, and her side. Hermione sighed, feeling absolutely content with the world. If only she could just curl up on her couch for the rest of eternity, sprawled across Harry's comfortable figure on her couch, in her flat. The world would be such a better place.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: I was going through old reviews, looking for reviewers I hadn't heard from in a while - LemonCheese, Anneryn7, Enilas (Yes, I did then see your review on Take Two, good to hear from you!), lvl, Ceylon (saw yours too, same goes to you!) a-person-in-the-universe, emalynnbb, EssenceofPlegm, Mayfall20, dreadfuldelights, christymalfoy (who was the FIRST person to add me to her favorites, I'll always remember getting that alert)... ****There are plenty others and I wish I could name all of you, I'm just naming the first few who come to mind. Seriously, you guys are the reason I returned to FFnet. I love writing, and I'm hoping to become better because I still have my issues, but your reviews and whatnot are the reason I keep writing - I love hearing from you and it's amazing as a writer to hear that people love my work. Thanks for all your support over the past year. Okay, enough sappy stuff from FFnet. Now, onto semi-sappy stuff in Fallen Hero. Enjoy! **

So much for the eleven-day sober run. She spotted his small, dark muggle car on her way home from work and her heart immediately sank lower than her toes. She turned into the parking lot, took a spot in front of the window, and watched the muggles - and Harry - inside. His face was paler than usual, save for the red flush on his cheeks. His raven hair was nearly shaggier and dirtier than she'd seen it in months. Hadn't she just seen him a week ago? Hadn't things been going okay? His head, previously resting on the table, rose to stare out the window - and into Hermione's car. It was almost as if he expected someone to show up. To find him. And supposing that he knew that she took the same route to and from work every day, he probably planned it that way. At least she hadn't had to search for him - on nights where he didn't return her or Ron's calls within an hour, they searched muggle London, Diagon Alley, everywhere. It never took long - Harry was surprisingly like Hermione in the fact that he was a creature of habit.

Ron had owled Harry the day after their mishap the week previous to apologize. He said he was sorry for not trusting Harry, for accusing him of going after Hermione, for yelling at him. He hadn't, however, apologized to Hermione. And that bothered her to no end. Did he not care that he'd apparated into her house with no warning? Did he not care that he violated the privacy of her home, yelled at one of her best friends, and absolutely ruined her night? Of course not. In fact, he'd tried to ask her out for dinner a few nights later, to celebrate the good news - he'd gotten a promotion. She was brought back to the present by Harry, waving a shy wave and motioning for her to join him inside. At least he was thinking right. At least he was conscious. The smile, however, shot her back into the past, to a spot in the Forest of Dean. It was a week before Ron returned.

_December 21st, 1997. 11:47 PM. _

_He beckoned to her with a crook of his finger and a smile. It was a smile that literally seemed to light up the night. The dim light from the tent washed over their slightly dirty faces, and the leftover smell of the smokeless fire Hermione had used to cook earlier almost reminded her of camping, years before she'd found out she was a witch. She wondered what it would be like to go camping with Harry, and her thoughts and heart raced as she stepped towards him. _

_"Sleep alright, 'Mione?"_

_"Decently. I woke a few times... thought I heard noises."_

_"Clinking? That was just me. Sorry. I found a few small stones, and the tin from the pears... an entertaining little game, while I'm on watch."_

_She shook her head and sat beside him, smoothing her hair back with an elastic. "Harry, do you wonder if he's ever coming back?" Of course she'd meant Ron. _

_"I'm... not entirely sure. I think he might try. But how would he find us? He has no idea where we're headed, really. Or where we are."_

_"That's what I've been thinking. Even if he did come back... where would he look?" They were silent for a moment as they processed the fact that they might not see Ron on the rest of their journey. _

_Internally, Hermione huffed. Served him right, for leaving them alone. Besides, all he'd been doing was complaining. He never cooked, he never gathered things, he never thought of ideas or theories... _

_"Do you want him to come back, Hermione?" There was a look on Harry's face that plainly stated that he was asking more than he was letting on. She couldn't think of anything to say. _

_"Of course, I do. I mean... he needs some direction. But he's our friend, he's..."_

_"And you have feelings for him." _

_She sighed. "I did. I might still. I just can't... I'm still furious with him! How could he leave us here, in the middle of nowhere? He's supposed to be trying to help. Instead, Molly's probably bringing him mince pies by the dozen. He's probably played Quidditch with the twins. He's probably visited their shop. Twice." _

_Harry laughed at her addition, but fell grim when he realized she was probably right. "I never thought he'd leave." He looked so... sad. Not depressed, or melancholy, she could just see the sadness seeping off of him, into the blanket beneath him, into her own self. Harry feeling this, made Hermione feel it too. They had, after all, been alone together for weeks. It was hard to not be a little sympathetic. It was hard to not want to put her arms around him, leaning her head on his shoulder. Perhaps, she thought, he'd kiss her... _

_The thought went farther than she'd anticipated. How could she think of anything of the sort with _Harry?_ It was like thinking of snogging your brother. Except Harry wasn't her brother, he was her friend, and not related to her at all, and he was rather good looking, she'd always known that... It was these next few days that would change everything._

It was just a few days after this conversation that they'd decided to go to Godric's Hollow. It was that week that changed everything. She got out of the car, stowed her keys in her purse, and pulled her coat tight around her. It was pouring rain. Harry was still watching her when she walked in the door.

* * *

"You just have to know I'm worried about you. Ron's worried about you too, everyone is."

"And I know that. And I don't like to see them looking at me like that, like I'm pathetic. Hell, I _am_ pathetic Hermione."

"Harry, you're not pathetic." He'd made the pasta tonight, their picked-Harry-up-from-a-bar tradition. He made it better than she did, and more elaborately at that. He was far from pathetic.

"Well, that makes one of us that thinks so." He twirled the pasta around his fork, picked it up a few inches, and dropped it. The fork hit the plate with a definite twang, a noise plainly meaning Harry giving up.

"Look, Harry. I know that the war has you... not feeling yourself. But I want you to know, at least, that I'm here for you. No matter what Ron says about you being here, no matter of Ginny and her petty grievances, my apartment is always open to you. Hell, I've even blocked my wards from admitting Ron, after last week's fiasco. It is... good to see you again."

"Even under the circumstances?"

"Under any circumstances. Harry, you're my best friend. I have no close female friends to speak of, Lavender still won't get over the Ron thing and Ginny, well, I haven't spoken to her since..."

"Since when?"

Hermione bit her lip. She shouldn't have mentioned it. "Since she left you." She took a large sip from her water glass and set it down again, dabbing at her lips with a napkin. "I've spoken to Luna though, despite rarely knowing where she's at. And Neville, a few times..."

"You haven't spoken to Ginny since she left me? You two used to owl every day! Twice a day! Is this because she left me?"

"To be quite frank Harry, I'd love for you to let the issue go, so yes. It's because she left you. You were working on it... and even though you've regressed, you tried, right?" Hermione let the edges of her lips curl up in a slight smile. She was attempting to be supportive, he was making it difficult.

Harry smiled, but it wasn't particularly happy. "I think there was maybe a day - no, two days - where I didn't have at least three drinks in me."

The smile fell. "Three is less than however many it took for you to end up getting your sick all over my bathroom."

"That's true. I just don't like that this has defined me. Not that I want to be _Harry Potter, perfect wizard, boy-who-lived_ either. That got old around third year. But after the final battle, seeing Fred's body, and Tonks and Lupin... I just can't do it."

"Can't do what?"

He looked up at her once again, his face leaning on one hand. His green eyes were made more intense by the fact that they were turning red - he was close to tears. "Anything."

"Oh, Harry. The war was... it was a mess. But I go to work. I see friends, sometimes. I talk to old family members, and... I've moved on."

"Look, 'Mione, let's put it this way. I know the war has messed you up too, despite you having the power to get out of bed in the mornings. What do you do to deal with it?"

"The war didn't mess me up that bad, I think. I feel perfectly normal, I-"

"_That's_ rubbish."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, Hermione. That's rubbish. This war messed you up as much as it messed with me."

"Harry James Potter, I would like to inform you that you went through as much as I did. But I've moved on, I've changed..." She cleared their plates and glasses, but he stood before she could sit beside him again.

"You have changed. You've _changed_. That's what I'm saying. The war messed you up, you just won't let yourself admit that. You're too strong to be bothered by something as trivial as, oh, the war that won our freedom. You're Hermione Granger! You can handle anything! You can think your way through all of it!"

"Harry, what are you talking about?"

"Do you remember what happened the night of Godric's Hollow? Do you remember trying to sleep that night?"

To be honest, she didn't remember most of it. "Bits and pieces." She was curious now.

"You fell asleep nearly as soon as we set up camp. You looked near exhaustion, I had to finish the rest myself, and it wasn't put together very well..."

"I remember thinking about it like that at Christmas. Go on."

"You screamed, in your sleep. I was on watch but I couldn't let you sit in there screaming. I went inside, and you were... shaking. Horribly. And sobbing, in your sleep."

"I had a nightmare, that night. I remember you mentioning it the next morning."

"I woke you up, and you went back to sleep soon after, but you just kept... you just kept screaming. And you yelled my name. And I couldn't... and Ron was gone. I left watch."

"You left watch. Harry, we could've been killed!"

"Instead, you're yelling at me in your dining room. Obviously not dead. Hermione, I couldn't listen to you suffer like that. I woke you up again. And I... I gave you dreamless draught. It was hiding in your beaded back somewhere, you must have picked it up somewhere. It came to good use. You slept well, but it must have been old or something - you say you can't really remember it?"

"I don't remember you waking me up."

"You were screaming and you threw your shoe at me."

She blushed. _Oh. _Well, she was touched by it, but...

"That still doesn't change anything. I'm fine now Harry, honestly. I'm here to pull you back up - not the other way around. You can stop being so noble for a night."

His face softened, and she had the urge to smile. She'd won - for now.

* * *

_December 23rd, 1997. 9:16PM. _

_"Harry, wake up. We'd better clean everything up, we should move in a day or so."_

_"Five minutes..."_

_"No, not five minutes. Come on, you. I'm making dinner, I went to the market this morning."_

_"You went to the market? Dinner? It's dark, what's- " He paused to yawn, and it reminded Hermione of more peaceful nights in the Gryffindor common rooms, up late reading or finishing essays, or solving one of their many mysteries. This though - this was their biggest mystery. This was what everything else lead up to - the two of them alone in a large, drafty tent in the Forest of Dean. And Hermione cooking various items she'd nicked from from the market. Tonight she'd done what she could - she'd gotten actual meat, and a box of instant soup, and macaroni. He smelled everything cooking and sat up quicker in bed. "I haven't had a decent meal in weeks - no offense - but that smells fantastic. What did you get? Did you leave more of our money again? We could end up needing that..." _

_She laughed, pulling him out of bed by the hand and dragging him outside. She'd gotten a little metal device from the market that let her cook the meat over the fire - no bigger than a shoebox and flat, it fit fine under the invisibility cloak with the small package of steaks, boxes of macaroni, and box of soup. She thought when she was leaving that the cloak had slipped, a muggle had looked at the space she'd just been rather curiously, but she'd continued on anyway. Harry seemed pleased with it - he ate everything rationed for him, and everything Hermione couldn't finish. _

_"You've come a long way from stewing mushrooms in a billycan."_

_"We'll be back to that in a few days, Harry. I'm afraid of being caught." _

_His frown said otherwise, but what he said made her happy anyway. "At least we've had this one, then. Thanks." _

_"It was no problem, really. I figured we could splurge for once. It's only the two of us. And yes, I dropped a few coins in the till... and a bill." _

_"That's not much, I guess." They sat in silence for a few minutes before Harry remembered it was his turn to sit watch. _

_"You probably want some sleep. Did you get anything, yesterday?"_

_"Maybe an hour or two. I slept so well the other night, I can't believe I missed my shift. Sorry about that." _

_"No worries. You made up for it tonight." _

_She had sat with him for nearly two hours before finally retiring to bed. Even then, she woke up later. _

They had watched more movies, but despite Hermione's desperate, silent pleas, Harry remained awake. He apparated out of her flat around midnight. She paced throughout for hours before, again, finally drifting off to sleep.

* * *

She couldn't avoid Ron now - he'd shown up at work.

"'Mione. I was beginning to worry."

He probably thought he was being slick. He was leaning up against a desk in the fourth floor lobby, healers and patients rushing past in groups. She rolled her eyes.

"Ron. As you can see, I'm quite busy."

She'd exaggerated slightly - she wasn't that busy. She'd gotten in a new patient, but he'd already been healed and was just resting. She just had the final paperwork to do before she was essentially done for the day.

"I just... haven't seen you, is all. Since the Harry thing."

"Since you apparated into my sitting room without my permission, you mean? I've set up wards now, you know. I can't have people jumping into my flat whenever they want."

"Look, you weren't answering, and I heard the telly on. I knew you were in there, and I hadn't seen you then, either. You've been acting really weird, lately. Hell, you've been acting really weird over the last few months, 'Mione."

She turned away, setting her paperwork on the counter. She was _not_ going to cry...

"Ron, I can't do this right now, okay?"

"Can't do what? Go to lunch? Have this talk? Be in this relationship? Honestly, Hermione, I don't know if you even love me anymore."

She sighed, turning towards him again with moist eyes. "Of course I love you, Ron. This is just... its a difficult time in my life. The war... it changed things. It changed me." She still didn't believe it, but if it would get Ron to wait until later to have this talk, it was what she'd use. "I'll always love you, even if we... don't work out."

This seemed to satisfy him, or he gave up. She couldn't be sure. He nodded, but his eyes were getting red too. Oh, she couldn't have the both of them crying, she was supposed to be on duty, and...

"I'll come by tonight, Hermione. I think we need to talk."

Of course she couldn't tell him no - especially since she had plans with Harry. Ron left Hermione standing agape in her healers robes, thoughts flying through her mind. She picked up the paperwork and started down the hall to her station, willing the tears to crawl back up into her eyes. It worked, for the most part. A single tear escaped, falling down her face and onto her robes. She could use magic to dry it, but it wasn't really worth it in the long run. She began to cry.

* * *

_December 25th, 11:16AM_

_"Harry. Wake up. I have breakfast."_

_"Breakfast?" He rolled over to face her, squinting without his glasses. She'd learned that his hair was even messier after he slept that normal - which meant that during the day, it was relatively tame. It made her smile. _

_"I nicked a few muffins from a cart on the way to the market... and there are bananas. There's a little milk left, I've kept it cold with a charm."_

_Harry lifted himself to hug her, and she laughed. "Come on then. What kind of muffins? Are they muggle muffins? Because those sound absolutely hilarious." She rolled her eyes and produced the stolen goods, Harry eyed them hungrily. _

_"Yes, Merry Christmas, Harry."_

_"It's Christmas?" _

_"The twenty-fifth of December. I almost forgot, but everyone was wishing each other Merry Christmas when I went in... it's strange to be here on Christmas." _

**_ooo_**

_He'd brought her a new set of utensils, tied in a bit of string. _

_"Harry, what is this?"_

_"While you were on watch, I went for a walk, right? I took the cloak. I went into town and picked up a few things..."_

_"How did you get metal things? I've been using plastic from vendors..."_

_"Little cafes, restaurants... there were a few patio tables. And I just took them." _

_She scowled at him, but couldn't keep it for long. He'd brought her a Christmas present. _

_"I know it's just a practical gift, but I figure you usually like practical things anyway... and we needed them anyway..."_

_She walked over to him and rested her head on his chest, arms pulled in front of her holding the silverware. _

_"Thanks, Harry. It's really great. I didn't think of anything to get you..."_

_He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close and resting his head on top of hers. "You're here. You've stuck with me, and cared for me, and cooked every meal. That's enough. That's more than enough." He took in a deep breath, and she felt his lips press against her forehead. It was a dream, she was sure, Harry couldn't be this sweet... _

_"You're my best friend, Hermione. Thanks." Oh, there was that friend word. Perhaps she wasn't dreaming after all, but at least she had utensils. _

Harry phoned her around six. "We're still on for tonight, then?"

Hermione bit her lip. "I don't think so, Harry. Ron came to see me at work."

"Oh, that's probably good. He mentioned not seeing you lately..."

"He practically demanded that he be able to come over. I almost told him no, but he would have asked what I was doing..."

"And it wouldn't have been well for him to hear we had plans. I understand." The line fell silent, and Hermione feared Harry was going to start hanging out with her less because of Ron. That was the exact opposite of what she wanted.

"Well, we can spend time tomorrow. Are you free?"

She heard him exhale on the other end of the line. Had he been holding his breath? Was he as strange about the situation as she was? And for what reasons?

"I'm completely free. Without a girlfriend asking my time constantly, it seems I have more time than I could possibly need."

"Excellent. Same time as we planned, then?"

"I'll pick you up. And actually, make it an hour earlier, make it seven. I have an idea."

Curious, she agreed. It was Harry - who knew what he'd thought up...

* * *

**AN: I have too much fun writing this story. It's progressing alright, but I AM about to get at you all a little bit frustrated with the fact that the tension is going to kill all of us. Harry is still oblivious to Hermione's feelings, obviously, even though of course, Ron suspects things. Hermione would obviously never TELL Harry, of course not... I'll update again soon. :D **


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: There's a HUGE flashback that takes up a big portion of this chapter - it's really important though, and full of shocking stuffs, so trust me, you'll enjoy it. There's a bit before and after, and **

Ron had shown up ten minutes early - in an effort to find something he expected to find or to surprise her, Hermione wasn't sure.

"Good day at work?"

"Not at all. Three new patients, one of which will be there at least a few days - bad flying accident."

"Sounds... terrible. Well, since I got my promotion, I've been working plenty, but unfortunately I'm in the office more. Paperwork, delegation, all that. Really, you'd think getting a title with a little prestige would mean that I could do a little more of what I love doing. Apparently, it just means I'm a pencil pusher..."

Ron continued rambling on, but Hermione barely listened to a word, only catching the bare minimum to be able to nod and laugh at appropriate times. He grabbed her hand, and she very nearly pulled her hand back, before realizing that in order to keep her cover, she'd have to hold his hand. His fingers interlaced with hers - they were cold and a little sweaty, and she immediately felt the urge to wipe her hands on her jeans, but she smiled, leading them to the couch. He sat beside her.

"What else have you been up to Hermione, besides work? We've both been busy lately..."

"It is a problem. I've got work, I'm trying to find contact information for the rest of my family, I was helping your mother with the gardening a few weeks ago... it's all very time-consuming."

"I was just waiting to see you - you being busy and all..."

"Of course, Ron. I've tried to find time to make plans, but you know, my career is very important..."

He fell quiet, and Hermione thought she'd won the battle she just now realized she was fighting - she thought he might be giving up on her. If Ron gave up on her, she was free to do what she wanted - even if that meant later going after Harry. Hermione, however, was sadly mistaken.

"We'll make it work - we've got to. 'Mione, this is meant to be, we've been going at this for years now, and everyone thinks we're meant to be together. I think we're meant to be together."

She graced him with a weak smile. "Yes."

She couldn't answer anything further. Ron stayed for a few minutes more, making another set of plans for them, and left with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Goodnight, 'Mione."

As soon as he left, Hermione realized her problem - though she wanted to not be with Ron anymore, she didn't want to be fully without him - and she didn't want to have to do it herself. She loved Ron, and she didn't want to be the one to break his heart - it would be his own fault if he chose to leave. He was right, after all - they all were. Hermione and Ron had had feelings for each other for years, without ever saying a word about it. They'd pined for each other and finally gotten together, and then what? Hermione found out she didn't like him anymore - she was different now, after all. But wasn't that what she had just denied to Harry? That she'd changed? She didn't feel any different, though. Perhaps it had just been her feelings for Ron that had changed. And perhaps her feelings for Harry, as well. They had a history, sort of.

She was a terrible person for it, and she knew it - but she really wanted Ron to just get the hint and break up with her so that she could go for his best friend. She cried herself to sleep that night, torn between two friends and lovers. The decision would change everything.

_December 25th, 9:15 PM_

_"Harry, do you think he'd return? If he had the means to?" _

_They were sitting outside in the snow, wrapped in scarves and things that she'd thought to pack - and Ron's that he'd left. He'd grabbed a blanket from a bunk and thrown it over them just a short while ago, and for a few minutes they had sat in silence, watching fog form from their breath. _

_"I don't know - that's the worst thing. If he could... would he come back? Has he already tried? He's loyal, usually, and he's been there for us both. But he's also been a right prat at times - the fact that he left to begin with is enough to say that."_

_"That's my problem. He left. If he came back, of course I would probably be glad, but if he didn't... he's already gone."_

_Harry held up a finger and the sneakoscope jerked wildly - there were voices. They sat still, hoping that Hermione's protective enchantments would hold through and they would not be discovered. When the intruders passed within a hundred feet of their camp, the pair instantly knew that those approaching were wizards. There were three male voices, all laughing jovially. _

_"Did you see what Mum's face looked like when the cat knocked over the water jug? She looked like she would just faint. I almost died laughing, but she'd have killed me if I did."_

_"Yeah, the cat was soaked - apparently, they really don't like water after all." The trio burst into laughter, and the youngest of them lead the group slightly farther from Harry and Hermione's camp. The boys pulled bottles out of a rucksack and began drinking. _

_'Firewhiskey.' Harry mouthed to Hermione, who smiled. The boys drank until they slurred, left the remainder, and walked back in the direction they came from within the hour. When they were far from earshot, Harry grinned. _

_"Do you think they left anything good? There are a few bottles over there, and they couldn't have had that much..."_

_"Honestly, Harry. Are you fiending for firewhiskey?"_

_"Yes, 'Mione. It's Christmas. We're both miserable, in the cold and snow. If there is Firewhiskey over there, we're drinking it."_

_"I barely like the stuff - it's a little strong for me." _

_"And I don't like having to wear this stupid locket, but I do it for the greater good."_

_"Are you saying that intentionally intoxicating me is for the greater good?"_

_"I do have a decent picture of defeating You-Know-Who in my head. In this picture, we spent Christmas night absolutely drunk and having a fantastic time for the first time since Ron -" _

_"Don't say it." _

_"I won't. But I'll be back." _

_Wide grin still on his face, Harry returned just moments later with flushed cheeks and full hands. _

_"There was one entire full bottle. And a half bottle. Hermione, this is just right enough to get us to where we need to be?"_

_"And where do we need to be?"_

_"Warm, despite being on patrol. Come on. Use your wand. Get some glasses." _

_She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. She pulled her wand from her sleeve and summoned two plastic cups that had been part of the camping set Perkins had left in the tent. They were shabby, scratched, and rather simple - much like children's cups. _

_"Excellent. Really excellent." Harry grabbed the cups from the air and proceeded to pour generous amounts into each. "They left it right there in the snow, it's remarkably cold... cheers then. To us, on the run, conquering evil." _

_Hermione couldn't help another roll of her eyes, but she clicked her plastic cup against his anyway and tilted it back, pouring the liquid into her mouth. The heat nearly burned her throat, but it was welcome in comparison to the fridgid cold they'd sat in for weeks. It warmed them instantly, and both were grinning wildly by the end of the first glass. At the end of a second glass, giggles filled the air around them - both were well on their way to intoxication. _

_"Hermione, what if I'd never met Ron?"_

_"What are you talking about?"_

_"What if I hadn't asked Molly about the train, but someone else? Hannah Abbot, or something. I'd never have met Ron. He wouldn't be my friend." _

_"And what's this coming from?"_

_"He never would have left. I feel like I'd have met you anyway, because of the troll and everything. Do you remember that?"_

_"What, being trapped under a sink, in bathroom stalls, hiding from a mountain troll whose only objective was to kill me? Yes, I vaguely remember it." _

_They laughed, leaning into each other. "Honestly, Hermione. Even when you've had firewhiskey, you're too smart."_

_"I don't believe there's such a thing as too smart. But if there was, I would probably be just that." _

_She sighed, leaning against him once more. "Your glass is empty." _

_"Yours is too. Another fill?" They'd gone through three quarters of the full bottle, and it was still only half of their find. _

_"Might as well. A Very Merry Christmas..." she laughed, taking the cup from Harry once he'd filled it. "And cheers to it. I supposed I didn't get you a gift, my gift is my drunkeness. Is that a word?"_

_"You're the smart one, you tell me. And remember, you being here is a good enough gift." He smiled at her, and he stirred something in her that she found strange. Perhaps it was just the Firewhiskey... _

_She crinkled her nose and drained her third glass in one. Harry eyed her, shocked. "I'm impressed. For someone who doesn't like Firewhiskey, you sure can put it down."_

_"Let's wait until this hits me to decide that."_

_Harry himself drained two glasses, and then waited. There was still a small amount left, if they wanted some later, but for now he put the stopper back on the bottle and put it to the side of them in the snow. When he returned to an upright position, his arm found its way around Hermione, who nestled into his side. They sat that way for a long time, feeling the numb creep up on each of them in turn. There was no debating the fact that they were both highly inebriated, and also no debating that they were both enjoying it immensely. Neither had felt this carefree or mindlessly happy since nearly a year before, when their quest was not yet thought of, before the death of Dumbledore, before Ron leaving, before these weeks of cold nights and empty stomachs... _

_"Wait, but if I'd never met Ron I never would have met Ginny."_

_"And?"_

_"Then neither of us would know Ron or Ginny. It would just be us." _

_She had expected him to say something sappy about meeting Ginny, his one great love - but it had been nothing like that. _

_"Oh."_

_"Yes, oh. And what do you think would have happened?"_

_"I don't know, Harry." _

_"'Mione, you're slurring."_

_"You've been slurring for hours."_

_"You have too... I'm just saying it now, okay?" _

_He grinned again, but it was sloppy, drunk. They were beyond drunk. They'd drank quite a bit, very fast... _

_"Okay, but then if it was just us and no Ginny or Ron, what would it change, Harry?"_

_His arm pulled closer around her middle, dragging her in closer to him. "Not much. We'd still be in this dark, cold thicket of trees and we'd both still be drunk."_

_"I would still be with you, you know that right? It wasn't just under Ron's suggestion that I joined you - I knew from year one that whatever it took, I would fight with you. And when it was proven further in year four, when he came back... I knew I would follow you. Wherever." _

_The seriousness of her comment threw both of them off, their smiles fell slightly, but not completely. _

_"I'm glad you said that, Hermione. Ron had made it seem, at times, that you only went along for majority."_

_"There were plenty of times you both thought one way and I thought another. And I stuck my ground. This was me sticking my ground, and sticking with you."_

_"Good." _

_He poured them each another half glass of Firewhiskey, leaving a little more still. They raised glasses, clicked, and drank, licking their lips in time. _

_Harry cocked his head to the side, squinting now to make regular sight. "Do you think we would have ended up together?"_

_"What are you talking about?"_

_"If it had just been us, would feelings have developed? Would we be together, now?"_

_"I don't know. I guess... if feelings were developing, they would have done so by now." She immediately regretted it - was she shutting down the possibility of him developing feelings, in their days alone?_

_"That's what I'm afraid of. Did they?" He looked at her, and she did not speak. The question was loaded. She could answer no and risk him not showing his feelings for her. She could say yes and he could not have feelings for her either. Or, it could be some beautiful mix between the two... she couldn't figure out what to say. She looked into his eyes for a moment more, and he nodded. She didn't know if that meant he understood or not, but he smiled slightly. "I think that maybe it could have happened. Firewhiskey is putting funny words in my mouth, but it's possible." _

_It was still loaded. Did she tell him, now that Ron had run out? But of course, he still had feelings for Ginny... _

_But that didn't stop him from losing his smile and reaching out to tilt her chin up. The breath she took turned to fog, momentarily clouding her vision of his eyes, looking directly into hers. _

_"Hermione. Have feelings developed by now?"_

_She could not speak, she could barely move but to close the distance between herself and Harry, shutting her eyes tight and pressing her lips against his. In the first moment he did not respond and she thought she'd made a terrible mistake, that he had simply been drunk and questioning... but moments later, his lips finally moved against hers, and his hand slipped to the side of her face, cradling her chin. The heat between them was obvious - the kiss was warming them both substantially, better than the Firewhiskey. Soon their tongues were sliding against each other, his arm around her was clutching at her back, and she forgot about Horcruxes, and Voldemort, and Ron especially. He shifted them both so that she was in his lap, and he was kissing her deeply, his hand moving from her face to her hair, over her shoulder, and back again. She was pressing herself to him, and it was what she had always wanted, it had only taken her all these years to finally admit to herself, to be pressed tight against Harry, their breath becoming shallower and quicker with the passing minutes... _

_"It's cold out here." Harry pulled away suddenly, and blinked rapidly. They had kissed, and that's what he had said first? _

_"Yes..."_

_"We should go inside." _

_"Patrol..."_

_"Patrol can wait. It's freezing. I'm going inside, and I'm bringing you with me." He skillfully leaned back on one arm, pushing himself up and somehow maneuvering Hermione still into his arms. He carried her inside the tent, and set her on the bed. She moved over to make room for him, and he laid down beside her, capturing her mouth with his as soon as he was horizontal. _

_Things got a little fuzzy for the both of them, then - clothes removed, hot mouths everywhere, panting. In the morning, they would remember bits and pieces, but neither would speak a word of it. _

"You're early."

Harry stood in her doorway, a single daisy in his hand. He held it out to her. "I found it on the way over... apologies for being early. I know you don't like it, but it's freezing and raining outside."

He'd had a drink or two - his cheeks were flushed. But he was coherent and walking straight. This was an improvement. He fell back onto her couch, beckoning for her. Of course, she obliged. Curling into his side, she remembered every moment of their first, and one of their only, encounters. She smiled, and shook her head slightly. Harry took notice.

"What?"

"Nothing... I was just remembering this last Christmas. It's been nearly a year since then."

She saw his face redden only slightly more. "Yeah. It has been. Things have changed, I guess..."

"Do you remember those things you asked me?"

"Bits of them. Which one are you referring to?"

"The one where we talked about what would be possible if we'd never met the Weasleys."

He stayed silent for a long time, and only spoke after several minutes of deep thought. "I remember."

"I sometimes wish we hadn't." There. It was out, and she was free from holding it in - she wished she wasn't with Ron anymore.

"I do and I don't. Ginny's left me, obviously - it would be nice to not have to deal with that. But Ron's my best mate, regardless."

"I could do without either of them. Ron's a great friend, but... it's just not what it should be."

"And what should it be?"

She took a moment to think about it, but the same thought played in her head. _It should be Christmas with randomly found Firewhisky, and a snowstorm beating on the outside of the tent. It should be fun. I should love him like I love you... _"It shouldn't be dreadful. I don't want to see him, in fact, I want to not see him."

"Oh. Well, then haven't you talked to him?"

She sighed, reluctantly separating herself from him. "I tried when he was here. But he just jumped into this speech about how we were meant to be together, about how it was worth the effort... and I just sat there and didn't say anything, really. I was hoping he'd run out on me."

"You should feel bad about that, you know."

"I should, and more than you know. I just don't want to break his heart."

"You're going to make it worse, by dragging it out. I don't want either of you hurt, but if you wait longer you'll be unhappy and he'll be in even deeper."

He was right, and she knew it. "Fine. I'll figure something out. But it's going to take a lot to get him off me."

"Maybe I'll take him drinking and convince him of it."

"You taking anyone drinking is not a great idea, Harry. You and I both know it."

"Touche. But I can stay in and drink with my best friend, can't I?" He looked at her and smiled sheepishly, and she rolled her eyes, rising to retrieve a bottle of something from her cabinet.

"Fine, but everything else in here is old, and I'm not sure if it's good-old or bad-old..." She pulled a bottle of wine and two glasses, and they finished it in an hour, drifting off to sleep together again.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Okay, the fact that I was at AMC for 8 hours last night watching OOTP, HBP, and then DH1 in theaters made me REALLY REALLY HAPPY, so I'm posting a celebratory chapter for all of you. I'll probably be pretty long, as my Harry/Hermione obsession right now is at an all time high. Okay, Okay. Warning : Lemons. Not too many of them, but you know. Some. Less than a tree full, but more than it takes to make a glass of lemonade. Mild mentioning of breasts and things inside things. READ ON. Okay also, you should know that I was listening to Taylor Swift - Haunted and 'Last Kiss' by the same Ms Swift when I was writing everything past "Harry had found a new haunt." You'll see. If you care to listen to it on repeat while you read, know that I wrote it while doing the same thing. Fitting. **

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* * *

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"I don't like seeing either of my best mates hurting. And right now, you're hurting the both of you. I don't want to make it sound like that, but you are. You're hurting Ron by keeping him distant and not just ditching him and staying friends, and you're hurting yourself even more because whatever it is you want in a relationship, you don't have it with Ron and you're suffering. Just do what you have to do."

"It's not that simple, Harry. What if he gets mad? What if he doesn't want to be friends anymore?"

"Hermione, we've been friends for eight years. A relationship of a few months is not going to ruin everything."

When he put it like that, of course it wouldn't. But things were much more difficult than how Harry put them, he just didn't have a clue about why.

"Possibly. I'm just afraid it'll ruin things. He's your best mate - what if it really hurts him? What if you stopped talking to me? What if..."

"No. Hermione, I don't care what else happens with you and Ron. I just want to see you both happy. If you upset Ron a bit in the process, it's inevitable. But it's necessary. And if something happens to make you happier in the process, then that's great, and hopefully we find a way to cheer Ron up too. But you can't keep stringing him along."

"What if I get my feelings for him back again? What if I leave him to only love him more later?"

"That's a chance you'll have to take. Hermione, you have to do this, and soon. You've been putting it off."

"But- "

"No buts. In fact, here's a little incentive - I'm postponing our next plans until after you do it. I want to make sure you will."

She bit her lip, and was near tears, but Harry's hand on her shoulder did everything short of pour warmth back into her. "Alright. I'll do it tonight."

* * *

The situation, really, was much more simple than she had originally thought. Hermione was no longer in love with Ron, but with Harry now. While Ron fought to keep her close, Harry sought to help her through whatever would make her happy. So really, the decision was easy, if you didn't consider the feelings of the other parties involved - of Harry and Ron themselves. But you had to consider their feelings - Hermione would effectively have to break up with Ron, seemingly out of nowhere. It would probably hurt him, much more than she could possibly understand. And then what about Harry's feelings? Ginny had only left him a few weeks ago, and she had no idea if any of the sentiments left over from war times were still there. Did he still hold some attraction to her? Was that possible, even after all that they'd been through, and even after he'd been with Ginny again?

She sighed, lazily tracing her pen through the require boxes - an X here, not there. Paperwork was her least favorite of tasks on the job at St. Mungo's, and it wasn't helping her attention span today. Thank gods she was off in ten minutes. Then she could go home, take a long, hot bath, and think. Hopefully, in between the steam and bubbles, she could finally make her choice.

* * *

Ron showed up at eight on the dot.

"Hermione, what's wrong?"

She'd owled him just an hour before, after laying around her flat in a daze. She was going to break up with Ron Weasley, after all this time and effort. After all they'd been through. For the very slim chance that she might get to be with his best friend, which would of course break his heart even further. It was a rather simple letter. _Ron, we need to talk. -Hermione._ And she'd meant it to be that way. Now, she was sprawled on the couch, her soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend standing over her as soon as he stepped in the door, and she was rehearsing the lines one last time in her head. She looked up at him and gave him a weak smile. He did not smile back, and she knew then that he had to have been suspecting something like this.

"Ron, I love you. I do. But it seems like over the past month or two, my love for you has reverted back into what it used to be - loving you like a brother. Like a friend. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I was hoping it would change." She was lying with that last bit, but only she knew it. "Anyway, Ron, please come sit. I just want to talk to you."

Ron didn't move, he didn't even shift his weight. Hell, his face didn't even change as he asked his first question. "Is it something I did?"

"Of course not, Ron. You or I couldn't have stopped this, no matter how hard we tried. We were just friends for so long... I think that's what my heart misses."

"Are you breaking up with me?" He finally came to sit beside her now, and she could see fresh tears brimming in his eyes. She hadn't counted on him crying. She turned towards him, looked him in the eyes, and nodded. She couldn't give him the verbal 'yes' he was waiting for. She wanted him to know what she meant, but she couldn't possibly say it herself.

"Does this have anything to do with Harry?"

Here it was - another loaded question. What was it with them, with these men, always feeding her questions so complicated that even _she_ couldn't possibly know how to answer them? She thought for nearly five full minutes on the subject, and the time lapse was obviously growing more and more apparent to Ron, who just wanted answers.

How could she even say anything, without shooting herself in the foot? If she was perfectly honest with herself, with everyone, it wasn't just Harry - she'd been losing the spark with Ron for a while now, and Harry was just the catalyst - her reason for leaving, in a way. But at the same time, was she going to admit that to Ron? That she was leaving him for his best friend? That she most definitely had feelings for him? Maybe. She couldn't, and wouldn't, admit that she'd had these feelings since before the war. That would just be cruel, to be honest. She remembered her conversation with Harry from earlier. _If something happens to make you happier in the process, then that's great, and hopefully we find a way to cheer Ron up too. _But would Ron forgive his best friend for being part of the reason Hermione was leaving him? And Harry probably didn't have feelings for her still anyway.

"No, Ron. It doesn't have anything to do with Harry. He just wants to see us both happy. And it's torturing the both of us, hanging on like this. We didn't work out. I'm sorry."

"As long as you're not leaving me for Harry, I think I'm alright." He stood, and she very nearly froze in her seat. He pulled her up and into a hug, and she couldn't resist wrapping her arms around the man who had once made her so happy. "But I think I'll go now. We'll keep in touch, and I'm sure I'll see you soon."

* * *

Harry had found a new haunt. It was decently far off the beaten path, with shabby wood panels inside and out and a large wooden sign over the oversized oak door - "Brimstone". Brimstone, if he remembered, was quite odorous in the most unpleasant way. Then again, so was this pub - obviously built long ago, when things like wet wood and beer smell weren't really noticed. The inhabitants were mixed - a crowd of local university students just a bit older than him, a group of men in their thirties, and a smattering of older men lining the booths and barstools, sitting alone or in pairs. It was dark, and a little musty, and yet the overall feeling was just _warm_, like somewhere he could spend hours thinking - and drinking.

He ordered another drink, stronger this time. It had been a while since he had fully let go, but today he intended to. Hermione would already be at work, Ron was still upset about Hermione breaking up with him, and Ginny barely cared if he lived or died anymore. It was perfect. He tilted the glass back, emptying most of it's contents into the back of his throat. It burned, but it was a burn he missed - the burn that meant that soon, he would be free from his thoughts, from his feelings, from the strange nagging at the back of his head that his entire world was about to be blown apart for the millionth time. But the burn was here again, and for that he was thankful - for the first half hour. It was soon after this though that entirely different memories and thoughts came to him - things that never left his mind, not ever.

He remembered carrying Hermione to bed Christmas night. He remembered nearly all of that night - the feeling of his best friend pressed against him, her breasts against his chest, her hips pushing ever so lightly into his, hinting at what she wanted, what they both wanted. It had been the first time, but it wouldn't be the last. Farther back even, he remembered a night when he'd nearly kissed her - it had just been three weeks after Ron had left them, and he was feeling vulnerable and it was that realization that had stopped him.

His thoughts travelled to their second encounter - their last. It was perhaps not 'right', not supposed to happen, but it was something that Harry couldn't have stopped if he'd wanted to - which he hadn't. He'd honestly though, before it happened, that he was going to die. The fact that he hadn't probably could have messed everything up between Hermione and himself, but instead, she'd disappeared after the final battle, preferring not to mention at all what had happened...

_May 1st, 10:16 PM_

_"I'm going to die, Hermione. I'm going to give myself up. I can't let anyone else die for me." He decided now was the best time. He'd left Ron with the others in the Room of Requirement, to fill them in on what had happened so far. It would take a while - Ron wasn't good with details - and he took the opportunity to pull Hermione out of the room and down the hall, into an empty classroom he'd visited many times in his youth to hide or think in. _

_She froze in her steps, wishing that she hadn't heard the words that she surely just had. "Harry, you're not thinking clearly. Without you, we can't..."_

_"You can win the war. My existence wasn't the thing stopping Voldemort from rising to power again, it was his strength. He's strong and rising again, but you all can beat him. I have faith in you."_

_"Harry, listen to yourself! Killing yourself won't stop anything."_

_"It will, though! He'll leave Hogwarts alone. There's a little part of me that hold a part of Voldemort's soul - without me dying, he's still able to come back. While I live, he lives."_

_"Do you really think he will, Harry? Do you? He won't. He'll get you, he'll torture you a little first and then kill you. And then he'll just push on through, murdering every person that is a part of this resistance - he'll kill all of us. If you're here, you can defeat him - we can win." She couldn't deny the fact that Harry was a Horcrux - they'd suspected it for a while anyway. She was nearly hysterical now, but could not bring herself to cry. The tears would not come, no matter how much she knew they should be there. She knew that later, once he was gone, she'd cry herself dry, drown in her own tears, but now they would not come, and that fact almost upset her more. _

_"You can win without me anyway. I'm nothing special."_

_"You are special. You almost have me in tears now. Do you not remember the prophecy? I'm sure you've heard it enough time to memorize the damn thing by heart, I know I have. '_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies ...' _I know you know it, Harry. Just listen to it. The power to vanquish the Dark Lord. He will have power the Dark Lord knows not. Harry, you can do this."_

_"But people are dying, Hermione - and he's not going to call off the Death Eaters until I give myself up. I didn't pull you aside to talk me out of it. Anyone could have talked me out of it, even Ron could have spewed something out. I came to say goodbye, first and foremost to you."_

_"Why? Why are you doing this to me, then? Pulling me aside and telling me I'm going to have to watch you die?"_

_"Because I want you to be happy after I leave. I want you to take Ron to the Chamber of Secrets - get a basilisk fang and destroy the cup. We'll figure out the rest as we go, Neville knows what to do about the snake, hopefully he finds a way to kill it. __Hermione, you need to understand one thing before we finish this. I want you to be happy. I'm not getting into the details, but I want to know before I go that you can be happy again after I've given myself up."_

_"How can I do that? How can I live with knowing you were giving yourself up, and that I did nothing to stop you? Harry, don't... please don't..."_

_"Do you love me, Hermione?"_

_She dared not ask in which way, he could sense her apprehension. So she did remember what had happened on Christmas. "Yes."_

_"Then give me a proper goodbye." _

_She stepped forward lightly, seeming to float on air even while gasping for breath. He was giving himself up, he was leaving them all and he was leaving her, and she could do nothing about it. Before she could stop herself, before she could think of how he would react to any of this sober, she rose up on her toes and captured his mouth with her own, snaking her arms around his neck. __The empty classroom they had hidden in was locked and warded with a flick of his wand, and he backed her up into a table, which - with another flick of his wand - grew larger and covered itself with something like a mattress. __His tongue was sliding against hers, and he was itching to enjoy the next short bit of his life - the last bit of his life. It had come to him just before that, that he remember what had happened at Chirstmas and he remember how Hermione had made him feel - absolutely alive. And then it came to him that before he died, before he was killed - he wanted to feel truly alive, just one more time. _

_He flicked his wand one last time before setting it down, and this last silent incantation had removed their clothes in one swipe. Hermione gasped at the feel of his skin against hers so quickly, and yet relished the feeling - she might never feel it again. She ran her hands down his back, his sides, and then pulled her hands up to his chest, resting her palms there. It was the pulse under her right hand, on the left side of his chest, that startled her nearly to death. He was alive and well, in this moment, his heart beating fiercely under her own outstretched palm. He was alive. His heartbeat was strong. But that would not last long. The tears finally came to her eyes as she remembered the sound of his heartbeat under her ear as she slept on his chest in the tent so many months before, after they'd slept together for the first time. She cried freely now, leaving one hand on his beating chest and lifting the other to tangle into his hand, grasping desperately at him. He lifted her legs around him and pushed them both up onto the setup, settling between her legs as easily as anything. He fit there, just perfectly, and that only made her start crying again. He raised up above her, running his hand between her legs, flicking and rubbing at all the right places, making her squirm underneath him. He reached up, turning her face to his. "Do you really want to do this?"_

_"I'll never be able to again. Of course I do..."_

_He wasted no time in pressing himself into her, making her gasp. She had forgotten what this felt like. What he felt like. And when the burn and the stretch faded away it was just him that she felt, sliding himself in and out. She clutched at his back, his shoulders, and he never sped up - he intended to make love to her, really make her realize what he felt for her, just one last time._

_They snuck out of the room just a short while later, not having time to fully enjoy the time they had left together. Slipping back into the Room of Requirement just in time to watch Ron finish the last of his epic tale, Harry felt his scar prickle and looked at Hermione. She nodded at him, the last of her tears falling. She could show no sign of having this talk with Harry. She had to go on as usual. He'd made her promise one thing, before they left the room. After dressing, they sat beside each other on the bed, and he rubbed her hand with his thumb as he held it. _

_"Promise me one thing, 'Mione - whatever happens, watch out for Ron. I know the two of you care about each other, and I know you have feelings for him - just promise me you'll give him a chance. He came back, and he's been indispensable - be good to him. Forget about me, and all of this - push it to the back of your mind. I don't want you to dwell on it when I'm gone." She nodded, knowing what he meant - he wanted her to be with Ron and be happy, even if she thought she could never be happy without Harry. _

Harry's lips spread into a thin line. Over the past eight months he'd seen two faces while he drank - Ginny's, and Hermione's. When he saw Ginny he remembered their good times, their love for each other, their happy days together. When he saw Hermione, however, he wasn't sure what to see - their days as best friends, or their nights as something more. Did he even still feel that attraction towards Hermione? He had willingly let her go to Ron, even after he hadn't died in the sacrifice. And he'd gone to Ginny - that had to mean something. He washed Hermione's face from his mind with another drink.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: Okay, so Harry's going to be a little weird in this chapter, but things are going to start moving a little more too. If you're looking for a little action, you're still going to have to wait a chapter or two for ****anything good. There's still a little angsty goodness going on right now, but you'll see that right about... now. **

He wasn't answering his phone, and he wasn't at work - it was an off day. That left very few places that Harry could be, and Hermione could only guess at his actual location. She sighed, picking her keys up from the counter and heading out to her car, already dialing his number again. It went straight to voicemail.

_"You've reached Harry Potter - yeah, that one. Leave your name and number and I'll get back to you." _Beep.

"Harry, honestly. You can't do this anymore. I'm going around to check a few places now, please call me. I'm worried about you. And I need to talk to you - I talked to Ron. I did it. Call me back."

Despite three other desperate messages, she hadn't gotten a response all morning, and it was nearing three in the afternoon. It wouldn't be his earliest binge drink, but it would be his first in nearly two weeks. It was a sign that Hermione cared way too much about him that she was spending her own day off looking for Harry. She'd have done it even if she did have work - it wouldn't be the first or last time she'd called her supervisor in haste, spitting out that Harry was missing again and she was taking the day to look for him - not that her supervisor ever minded. When it came to granting favors for the Golden Trio, you just _did. _Even if they swore they didn't want special treatment.

She drove to each of the wizarding pubs she knew of - no sign of him. She drove to his favorite muggle bars and things - again, nothing. She had the oddest feeling that he wasn't _out_ today. But then, he could only be _in_... Suddenly, Harry's location was obvious - if he wasn't out somewhere, he wouldn't have left his flat - he'd be there. She drove across town again through traffic, pulling into the parking space next to his car - for visitors. He'd normally have to pay extra for that, but again, it helped being Harry Potter...

She pressed the button for his floor five times before the door closed. On the way up in the elevator, Hermione wished she'd taken the stairs - it would be faster. Very rarely did Harry not even bother to put on airs and go to a pub at the very least, it was very rare that he drank within the sanctity of his own home, locked up like she knew he would be. She ran the length to his door, knocking rapidly.

"Harry, I know you're in there. Come out. Or at least come to the door. I haven't heard from you all day today or yesterday, and I talked to Ron. I'm worried about you." A neighbor poked her head out the window, but as soon as he was back inside, Hermione slipped her wand from her sleeve. _Alohamora_. It was ironic - she'd taught them how to use this, and yet it would always come in handy most when _they_ needed it. Of course. She pushed open the door and saw blackness - absolutely nothing. She shut it behind her, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness. Every curtain in the place was drawn, cracks of light giving the flat an eerie sort of look. She heard retching and followed it, sure it was him.

Of course, there he was. Sitting on a chair, next to the toilet. At least he was doing it comfortably - she could tell now that he'd actually drunkenly transfigured a small cupboard with towels into a large fluffy chair, and would be resting in it if he wasn't leaned over the side, losing whatever was in his stomach.

"Oh, Harry." He shook his head, wiping his face on his sleeve - _disgusting_. He looked up at her finally, squinting and pouty.

"Oh, you again."

"What are you talking about, Harry? I haven't seen you in two days."

"I see you all the time! Even when you're not here."

He was squinting still, and he stuck his tongue out at her. He was probably worse than she'd ever seen him for only one reason - he was acting completely mental.

"Do you know what, Hermione? When I drink, I see your face. When I sleep, I dream of it. You're everywhere. It was always you and Ginny - both of you in my head. I mean, Gin never knew you and I did what we did. She'll never know - she'd kill me, and then come back and kill you. That would be bad." He hiccuped, and then vomitted again, sitting upright directly after to finish his speech. "And all the time I told myself, '_of course I'd think of Hermione. She's one of my best friends. She means a lot to me.' _But we did _shag_, you know. Twice! I shagged my best friend twice! And then I didn't even do you good - I couldn't even bloody _die, _already. Do you know what it's like? To think you're dying? To say goodbye to the person you love most, even though you're not supposed to? And then to _live?_ Shit, 'Mione, no wonder I couldn't grow a pair and get with you after the war - I'd used all my courage in walking to my death and courage spat _right back at me."_

"You're talking nonsense, Harry. What are you saying?"

"You know what? I don't know what I'm saying. I've just been thinking and drinking and sometimes stinking, stinking at forming coherent thoughts."

"You just used 'coherent' properly. You're improving." She saw him shake his head and then saw the tears falling from his eyes. "Oh, _Harry." _

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I really am. You didn't have to come find me, you know. This is all... I had bourbon for breakfast. That's not adviseable. Not a bottle of bourbon. That's... bad." He hiccupped again. She nearly laughed, but instead sat beside him on the transformed chair and smiled a sad sort of smile.

"Bourbon for breakfast is a no-no. So is any alcohol, for that matter. Remember, Harry - alcohol is a drink, not a meal. And a drink you shouldn't be enjoying right now."

"Alcohol is a bad drink. Not a meal. Got it. Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"I love you, okay? You let me vomit in your toilet and you rub my back and you pick me up from pubs and I just fucking love you."

"I'm sure you do. Are you done being sick?"

"Not at all. I'll be here for a while. There are leftovers from my dinner last night in the fridge if you want 'em." He leaned over again, got sick, and nearly smiled. "Told you."

Hermione shook her head, walking into the kitchen. Come to think of it, she was starving - once she realized she hadn't heard from Harry, she'd forgotten to eat. When she remembered what he'd just said - they were in the fridge - she also remembered that he'd drunkenly told her he loved her and that he saw her face all the time when he drank. What on _earth _had that meant? Drunken words were supposedly sober thoughts, but how much of it had he really meant? And of course, he'd had to bring up their nights together - twice. Of course he had. He was Harry _fucking _Potter. Her best friend, the man she was in love with, and drunk-talk extraordinaire. Brilliant.

* * *

_Harry awoke feeling like he usually did after hours of sleep on a day where he'd had excessive amounts to drink - like absolute shit. His head was throbbing, but so was every vein in his body. He was cold, but sweating. Tired, but wide awake. Nauseous, but too sick to move. In short, he was the usual hungover disaster. And as usual, Hermione was there, running her fingers through his hair. How did she know he loved that? Probably a memory from, well, interesting nights... __Had he really brought that up last night? Everything he'd said to her was a foggy mess now, everything he'd done and said in the hour before she put him to bed was kind of a disaster, really. Had he said he loved her? Oh, bloody hell... _

_He rolled over to face her, but kept his eyes looking shut. He wanted her to think he was still sleeping. How long had she been at his flat? How long had she waited while he got sick all over his bathroom? How many _scourgify_ charms had it taken her to clean up from the times he'd missed the toilet? How long had it taken her to levitate him into bed, roll him into a comfortable position, and sit wit him until he'd fallen asleep? Too long. Much too long. Several. Hopefully not terribly long. But here she was - the light streamed in from between the slats in the blinds - it had to be very late, the street lamps were on and it was dark out - but she sat beside him, curled up nearly into him, running her fingers through his hair, stairing at the ceiling. What was on her mind? Was it the things he said? What had he said, really?_

_He wondered if he told her the truth. Then again, even _he_ didn't know the full truth. He knew he'd had strong feelings for her after Ron had left, and all the way through until the final battle - it's why he pulled her aside, why they did what they did. So she returned the feelings then, obviously. But had her feelings changed? She'd just left Ron - he was pretty sure he heard her say something about it as she was comforting him and eating his leftovers. But was it because of Ron? Could it be that she still had feelings for Harry then? This changed things. And did he still have feelings for her? Too much thinking. He sighed, a bit too loudly. _

_"Harry?"_

_He stayed silent. She could possibly believe it was just a sigh in his sleep. She could..._

_"I know you're awake." _

_He opened his eyes to look at her - really look at her - and he saw the face he'd pictured in his mind nearly every day since Ron had left them. Eyes wide, lips slightly parted, cheeks flushed. Hair surrounding her head in a mess, but a nice mess... and he knew. __And then what if she still had feelings for him? What if that was her reason for helping him, and for leaving Ron? And what in the name of Merlin was he going to do about his feelings for her? His head started pounding again, and he laid it on her lap, but his heart was pounding again too, and he was looking up at her past his own eyelashes. _

_"Not for long. I feel like I'm going to die."_

_"You're not pulling that one on me again. You're alive and mostly well. And you're not going to die - not this time. I'm here." She slipped down beside him, still running those long fingers through his hair. He ran an arm over her waist, pulling her nearly flush against him. She gasped, and then chuckled. _Yeah_, he admitted to himself. _I still have feelings for her.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: FEEL FREE TO HATE ME. I KNOW I SUCK. My computer crashed in December, leaving me with no Internet and no life. Now, however, I have a nifty little laptop again - which, obviously, I can use to update my fics. I hope you're happy! Hmph. I've missed writing, more than you can imagine. I used to update like, at least twice a week. Now I just went two months here without. Boo. Back to normal, I think. What do you say? Enjoy. **

Admitting to himself that Harry had feelings still for Hermione was quite a difficult thing - he'd have taken the Merpeople Triwizard task over this any day. But surely, as the morning progressed slowly, it became more concrete to him.

_Perhaps I still fancy her. She's still brilliant, still beautiful and of anyone she's been the one here for me the most. _

_I think I might still love her - that's odd. I don't remember these feelings returning at all, but apparently they have. I feel like a giddy schoolgirl, she'd laugh at me if she knew... _

_That's it then - I do still love her. _

_Maybe I always have, though. She's... Hermione. There's no other way of saying it. Of everything we've been through together, she's been the most amazing girl._

_What if she still loves me too? We could finally be together - actually together. No hiding, no more lies and awkward nights waking up hungover with her curled up into my side. It would just be normal - hopefully minus the hangover. _

And as the ideas in his head progressed through the Possible, the Probable, and what he hoped they had in their future, he couldn't keep the smile off his face, despite his pounding headache.

* * *

"Hermione?"

"Who is this?" She pressed the phone to her ear, hoping she might be able to better understand whoever it was that was whispering on the other end of the line.

"It's... not important. I need you to meet me somewhere. I just need to... talk to you about something."

"I'm not meeting you if I don't know who you are."

"Think about it - if I have your mobile number, you must already know me. Correct?"

She sighed. She _was_ overly cautious sometimes about her mobile number - couldn't be too careful, even this long after the war. "Fine. There are only about seven people who know it. Harry is asleep in the other room. Ron wouldn't think to whisper or disguise his voice, and has little reason to call me. Neville is in the middle of his Professor's training week. Molly is in Romania and doesn't sound like a man. That leaves George, Luna, and my Aunt. And as you sound like a man..."

"Bloody hell Hermione, can't I have a little fun anymore?" George grunted over the line. Hermione smirked, shaking her head.

"No, George. I have to be careful with who I meet up with, even now. You must understand that."

"Also you're bloody paranoid, always have been."

"Maybe I won't meet with you after all..."

"Wait! No. Sorry. I just... can we talk?"

"I don't want to discuss Ronald."

"Welcome to the club - nobody else does either. He's been a right whiney git since you left him. And good for you."

"Oh, be easier on him. He can't have really seen this coming..."

"The rest of us did. Hog's Head, around seven tomorrow night? Bring Harry. Speaking of, why are you with him at such an ungodly hour of the night?"

"That's none of your business." She wasn't sure how much of Harry's state the rest of the world knew about - even George.

"Is he a better shag than Ron, at least?"

"_George Weasley!" _

"Alright, alright! Apologies. Thanks, Hermione."

"You're lucky you're still like family to me."

"Well, we always did need a real brainy one - Perce doesn't count. I'll see you tomorrow."

The line went silent, and she glanced at the screen before setting it down - three in the morning. She'd been at Harry's all day. No wonder George thought they were shagging. But oh, if only he knew...

* * *

"Can you be alright to leave the house tonight?"

"I don't see why not. I'm not drinking at all today. I'm trying to..."

"Quit?"

"Yes. Why, have plans?"

"George called - needs someone to talk to, he said. I suppose he's just looking for company..."

"I can imagine. Fred was..."

"Always there to turn to. Right. And now he needs someone else, and fat chance Percy or Ron will do the job."

"'Mione, don't adopt Ron's shit attitude now - I need you."

Time froze. It hadn't been intentional, it hadn't been thought of at all, really - but as soon as the words were out - _I need you _- neither could speak. And yet if they'd found the courage, either of them would be saying the same thing - _I really do need you. _Harry finally spoke.

"You know. And not just for when I get pissed, either. I kind of... well. I don't know what to say here."

"I don't either, Harry."

He couldn't read the look on her face - did she not know what to say because she needed him too? Or because she was better off without having to deal with him?

* * *

George arrived early to the Hog's Head, taking a seat in a corner booth and drawing his hood further over his face. Harry and Hermione would likely know it was him by the fact that even though he was hooded, a tuft of ginger hair stuck out, and he was still taller than 9 out of 10 of the other patrons. He'd been doing a lot of thinking since he'd called Hermione - why it was her number he dialed, he still didn't know - about the war, the repercussions, and most of all, of course, Fred. It had been five months, two weeks, and six days since Fred's last laugh. That, in the end, was the only thing that had gotten George through it - Fred hadn't died in pain, or in vain. He had died laughing, at Percy of all people. Had he been tortured, had Voldemort won... George wouldn't have made it out alive either. He'd have made sure of it. Fred wouldn't have wanted it - and Fred wouldn't have wanted George sulking about for too long, either.

Why had he dialed Hermione, then? He knew he was one of the few people entrusted with her number, for whatever odd reason. Perhaps it was the feeling that he couldn't go see his parents - Molly cried, Arthur was silent, and Perce whined around about how it should have been him instead of Fred to die. Well, it was a noble thought, but it didn't change anything. If Fred were here, George wouldn't be sitting here alone, waiting for Hermione and Harry...

And what about Hermione being with Harry at the latest hours of last night? George had only called so late because he knew Hermione would answer, regardless of the hour, and because he himself was awake, preparing to head to the shop early to begin the new display. But she'd been with Harry - she hadn't outright denied that she was shagging him, but he had the oddest feeling that there was something else to it - something neither of them would be able to talk about in the presence of the other. Which was exactly why he'd invited both of them - if they couldn't talk about it, they could be awkward and make references to whatever it was they'd been up to, and George could silently pick up on it and then hold it over their heads for fun. He was looking forward to the troublemaking, really. It would be some of the first he'd done since Fred.

They finally arrived, removing their cloaks to reveal that they were dressed in casual muggle clothes. George removed his own cloak, grateful for the jeans and sweater he was wearing beneath. He caught their eyes, waved them over, and immediately ordered a round of firewhiskey.

"Potter. Granger."

"Weasley." Hermione smiled.

"The best of the bunch. And what have you two been up to?"

Hermione, he could see, launched into a carefully prefabricated speech about how she'd been working so much and she'd only been at Harry's to assist him in keeping the news reporters from attacking him. Harry sat silent, not touching his drink, looking at his hands. This was unlike Harry, who would have usually been smiling and joining in the party. Once Hermione finished, with all the officiality of a campaign speech, George shook his head.

"Not buying it. That's crap. What's _really _going on here?"

Hermione seemed unable to speak, and Harry grew a slight smirk. George smiled. "I'm waiting."

Harry chuckled. "Hermione has been helping me out - I've been a right mess."

George nodded, Hermione finally shut her mouth. "Have anything to do with why you won't touch your favorite brand of firewhiskey?"

"Loads, actually. Hermione has been... well, let's just say I've apparated, quite pissed, into her flat at odd hours of the morning probably at least ten times in the last month. She's had to pick me up from pubs at least another ten times. It hasn't been pretty. But I will take this one firewhiskey, thanks." He sipped it as one might sip lemonade, if they weren't sure if it were too sour or too sweet - by barely tasting it at all. George felt something in the back of his head - annoyance? confusion? - but couldn't quite place it.

"At least that's a bit of the truth. Now, Hermione. Since Harry's 'fessed up, why won't you?"

"I thought we came here because _you_ wanted to talk to _me_ about something, George."

"And I am, and we will. But this is just rich. Sorry, Harry."

Harry waved his hand as if to say both 'I completely understand' and 'Carry on' at the same time. George smirked again, turning back to Hermione.

"So you ditched my loser brother, and you've been shacked up with Harry here. You have to admit, it's a little suspicious. No wonder Ron says he's not speaking to either of you at the mo'."

Hermione shook her head. "Ron wasn't helping with Harry much. And he's my best friend - what are best friends for?"

"'Mione, with good knowledge of how best friends work, and with just losing mine, I can tell you that best friends are definitely there to support. But twenty nights out of thirty? You should have kicked his arse back into shape by now. Merlin knows you can yell loud enough."

"George..."

"Sorry. Alright. You obviously don't want to talk about it. So we'll go on. What do you think I'm here to talk about?"

"Fred."

"Partially correct. Of course I want to talk about Fred - it seems no one else in the family wants to. But it's more than that. Fred took up a large part of the operating portion of the shop - I'm finding I'm falling behind in payments, customers are leaving empty handed, it's bad for business. I'm not making money, working with just myself and Verity. And also I'm working my arse off. I worked from four in the morning to ten at night today. That's too much to do. I can't handle it. Knowing that you both know plenty of people, I was wondering if either of you knew anyone looking for a job? Just something part time. Decent pay. Excellent benefits. Hazard pay, as well. Fred and I tested the products as well..."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "And first years. First years always tested your products, too."

George waggled a finger at her. "Don't get snippy with me. Anyway, know anyone in need of a few hours? Something light?"

Harry snapped his head up, as if suddenly aware again that the conversation was taking place. "Yeah. I am, actually. I haven't been into the ministry for Auror work in a month. Too stressful, I always end up drinking after. Perhaps I could come help you out for a few hours a day. Nothing too hard."

George grinned. "Oh, that would be really excellent. We'd have to put up wards to keep out reporters and the like, but that would probably be excellent for business, too. If that's alright?"

"I'd rather have encouragement from a bunch of joke shop patrons than nothing."

Hermione shook her head. "Harry you can't be serious!"

"I have to be, Hermione. Think about it. Easy job. Short hours. No stress. Encouragement. It'll be the perfect solution for Fred. I can quit the ministry and go back later if I wish and if Fred finds a more permanent replacement - Merlin knows they'd take me back in a heartbeat."

George watched them argue back and forth for a minute or two, weighing the pros and cons and snapping at each other a bit. They really were better suited for each other than she and Ron were, and a much more attractive couple, as well. Hermione's long, wavy hair fell below her shoulders. Harry's usual raven mess was tamed a little better than usual. And they hadn't sat more than six inches apart since they first sat down. It was plain to see that there was something here - what, he couldn't quite tell. But since his own affairs were dealt with, he decided that playing with their heads a little couldn't be a bad thing. Perhaps he'd make something interesting happen. It was worth a shot. Both of their voices were raising steadily, bickering with each other over whether or not Harry could handle helping at the shop, when George spoke.

"The two of you have shagged, haven't you?"

Both of them whipped their heads to him, fire in their eyes, and shouted "YES!" at the same time. Then froze. Well, this was news.

"And when, children, was this?"

Hermione threw a paper coaster at him. "I can't believe you just did that."

"I can't believe you've been doing the naughty. No wonder you left Ron."

She shook her head, Harry simply stared, agape, as if he wasn't sure what he'd just said. "It wasn't... recent. It was... oh hell. It was after Ron left us. When we were hunting for Horcruxes. It was Christmas. Some boys left a bottle of firewhiskey in the snow a few yards from us."

"You still did it!"

"We're very aware, George, but not a single other soul knows. In fact, the two of us haven't even spoken about either time since then."

"You've shagged _twice?_"

She turned to the man next to her. "Harry? A little help here?" But as soon as the corners of Harry's lips turned up, she knew it was probably a bad idea. He was still male, after all.

"Yes, George. Twice. Christmas. And... well okay, this is a bad one, but just before the final battle."

"But, Hermione snogged Ron then, didn't she?"

"I was supposed to be dead. She knew I was going back to Ginny, I assume. She made a responsible, sensible choice."

"I think I'm lost here."

Hermione glared. "And that, George, is what happens when you meddle."

"Oh, I know enough - details are pointless. Don't worry, your secret is safe with me. But now that the two of _you_ have talked about it for the first time... as your therapist, I must ask, how does that make you feel?"

This time, neither Harry nor Hermione had anything to say. George grinned wickedly. "Thought so... that should be an interesting conversation, when it happens. Wish I could be there for that. Unless you just shag again after that. I love you like a brother, Harry, but I want nothing to do with your..."

"George!" Harry's cheeks were red now, his firewhiskey gone. Hermione was giggling. Perhaps this was a good idea after all. Who knew what he had just started... or restarted?

* * *

Harry unlocked the door to his flat, holding it open for Hermione and then locking it behind her. Neither had said a word on the drive home, both reeling from their conversation with George. Why on earth had either of them admitted to it? Of course they were guilty of the feat, but nobody else knew, and neither of them had spoken a word about either time since it had happened. Harry stepped into the kitchen, opening a cupboard.

"Tea, 'Mione?"

"Do you have anything stronger?" Immediately realizing her suggestion was probably a bed one, she saw him poke his head around the wall.

"You should know I do, hidden somewhere. Is that what you want?"

"I don't know. After that talk with George..."

"That was weird, wasn't it? We hadn't even talked about it. Nobody knew. And to suddenly have to admit it all to George, even by accident."

"I think, though..." This was it. Hermione felt her heart stop momentarily. She hoped Harry would get what she meant by that. "That it wasn't that bad. I mean... we did it. And it's not exactly going to be a secret forever, you know?"

He cocked his head, staring at her. She could feel his eyes piercing her own, digging to find the hidden meaning behind her words. "I suppose. But why wouldn't it?"

That was a loaded question. He had to have asked it on purpose. Did that mean that he still had feelings for her, too? Or that he didn't, and was trying to find out if she did? She couldn't be sure. Hermione took a shaky breath, looked up into his eyes - those bright green orbs that practically hypnotized her whenever she saw them - and spoke.

"Do you remember when you asked me if it was possible that feelings had already developed? And then you kissed me. You started that. Was that your answer?"

He stepped out from behind the wall now, and she could see the tin of loose tea in his hands. He was fiddling with the lid, as if it held the words he so desperately wanted to say. He looked at the tin, then Hermione, then the ceiling and back to Hermione.

"Yes."

"Harry... I think we both know what we were thinking. I think that... we both had feelings for each other."

"Had, Hermione? Had or have?"

She knew the answer to that. But did she have the courage to tell him? It was the first night all over again. If she told him she had feelings for him, she risked things getting painfully awkward, losing her time with him, all for the possibility of being with him, for however long. But perhaps he was asking because he himself had feelings for her. The idea wasn't so far off, she supposed. She cleared her throat, and looked up at him once more, the answer poised on her tongue. But would she risk it all?


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: Back again. See, I told you I was back... hehe. This chapter starts RIGHT where the other one left off on a nifty little cliffhanger, so if you don't remember it... go check it out again. I won't say much more. Kind of a short chapter, blah blah, but know that next chapter, as things usually do somewhere around now in my fics.. the shit will hit the fan. Always remember - there is always shit. Enjoy! **

"That's a loaded question - you can't ask me to answer that."

"Then you can't expect me to say anything, either."

"The problem is that if I say I had feelings for you - but I don't still - what if you still have feelings for me? If I'm telling the truth, I'm hurting you. If I'm lying, I just ruined things for myself. And If I say I have feelings for you still but you don't have them for me, I run the risk of being absolutely humiliated. Then though, I could be lying to gauge your reaction, which would hurt us both."

"So you're what you're saying is... wait, I'm lost."

"I figured. What I'm saying is that I can't give you an answer straight away. Neither of us would lie for personal benefit really, so we have to deal with the consequences either way - if we have mutual feelings or mutual not feelings or mismatched... either way, it will probably change some things."

"How much are you willing to change?"

"That's another loaded question, Harry."

"Why, because if you say you're not willing to change anything, I'll think you're saying you don't still have feelings for me? But if you're willing to change a lot, that maybe we have a shot here?"

"Or it could change a lot if one of us has unreturned feelings."

"Why are we dissecting this like this? Just... come out with it already."

"I can't, Harry. I can't do that. I don't expect it of you either, but Harry, I want you to know that I don't want to lose you, either way."

"That settles it then. If you feel differently than I feel, we'll stay close. Best friends at the very least."

"Yes. I couldn't stand to be completely alone, or without you."

"Good. Then I should tell you something."

Hermione nodded and stared, agape. Was he really just going to come out with it then? Would it change everything? This, Hermione didn't have time to analyze. He paused for no more that ten seconds before biting his lip, turning away from her, and sighing. He was turned away - that had to be a negative, didn't it? Or perhaps not. Thinking was too hard, now. Hermione simply gave up to counting the beats of her heart - as she found them rhythmic, she also found they were beginning to speed up, and her heart was nearly pounding out of her chest.

"I should tell you now, because it's been running through my head since before we met with George. For days, really. I should tell you that I love you - I kind of always have, I shouldn't tell you that and you probably shouldn't tell anyone, but even since before Ron left us... I always had the nagging question. What if it's meant to be Hermione? She's always been supportive - always there. When no one else was, I could call you my friend, and I've always trusted you with important stuff. Now I'm trusting you with the truth, which is scarier really than anything - Voldemort included. I've always thought about it, I've..."

"Harry."

"... loved you for months, Hermione. The fact that you're still around after I pulled this stunt... I'm surprised you stayed. And grateful. And..."

"Harry!"

"Yes?"

"I need to leave."

He blinked. "Why?"

"I don't know if I can handle this right now."

"Is that a good or a bad?"

"I don't know."

"How do you not know? I've just professed my secret, undying love for you. Just give me a simple answer. I won't let you leave until you tell me how you feel."

She started for the door, but he disarmed her. Damn her, he was absolutely excellent at disarming. "You won't leave without your wand."

"I won't leave without your word."

"What word? I need _your _word."

"Without your word that... we'll take things slow. That we wait a while to break it to Ronald, and to the rest of the world. That you absolutely will not hurt me - ever, or so help me Harry James Potter I will make Voldemort look as tame as a kitten, and Umbridge look like a perfectly polite princess. That you will stop drinking. Now. Unless it's a social occasion, and even then, there will be limits. And you have to meet my parents - officially, as my... whoever you are, whoever you'll be."

"Hermione, I will be whoever you'll have me as. I will do anything. Literally... anything. Consider me sober - and secretive. If I have to keep this from Ronald, I'd take it to the grave if I had to."

"I'm pretty sure by that point he'd know something was going on - but continue."

"I can't say anything else. Words escape me. But what have you to say?"

"I can't say it."

"You can. You've said it to me before."

"Not like this. This is... entirely different."

The realization that it _was_ entirely different struck him quite suddenly - this was not a casual _love ya_ or _love, hermione _at the end of a Christmas card. This was real, honest, grown-up love. Something neither of them had possibly encountered before. At nineteen, Harry was just enlightened to the fact that while he'd thought he'd known everything about the word - the caring, the friendship, the bond - he'd known nearly nothing about the kind of love he was experiencing now. Not with Cho or Ginny or any other woman. Hermione turned towards him, a look in her eye that he couldn't quite place, and stepped slowly towards him, cocking her head to the side as if to inspect him. What was she seeing in him now that she had not seen before? Or was she perhaps seeing things in him that she'd always seen? His hair? His glasses, or scar? He'd discovered a blemish on his face that morning, was that part of it? No, she stepped even closer and he could nearly feel the pulse in his lips when he realized that it was exactly where she'd been staring. It had been how long, exactly, since the last time those lips had touched his? Entirely too long, he suspected, but upon trying to count, Harry found himself unable to remember the time frame, let alone what day or month it might be. He could smell shampoo on her - the shampoo in his own shower, the one she'd used just earlier that day. He reached out to touch her - no, it wasn't a hallucination. And when she reached out in turn, setting her hands on his shoulders, standing on her toes to press her lips to his, he _felt, _too, that she wasn't a hallucination, and he couldn't have been dreaming - the jump in his heart when he felt her body melt into his was proof enough of that.

* * *

Since she'd kissed him, they'd barely spoken thirty words to each other. It had been a full twelve hours. Neither had slept, as each of them was too shocked by the events of the evening to even fathom any rest. They chose instead to curl into each other on the couch, fingers interlaced, close as can be. There was a film playing on a random late night channel, then another. The only words spoke were those to remove ones self to use the restroom, or to ask if the other wanted tea. Fixings were not a required question, but rather easy knowledge - they knew how each other liked their tea as easily as they knew their own.

It was perhaps nine the next morning when Hermione turned to Harry, another odd look in her eye. She kissed him once more - softer, but quicker - and tilted her head again. "I don't want to wait."

"For what?"

"Coming out like this. If we try and wait, we have to try and hide it. There's nothing wrong about this relationship."

"Except perhaps the fact that you ditched our other best mate less than a month ago. And oh, wait - told him that it wasn't at all for me."

"At the time, it wasn't."

"Really?"

"No. That's a terrible excuse. Perhaps... we should talk to Ron. And tell him."

"Tell him what?"

"Everything."

"Hermione, you and I both know that's a shit idea. He'll never speak to us again."

"It does risk a friendship..."

"One that's very important to me. He deserves to know, I think - but not yet all of it. I think we'll break it to him slowly. He mentioned having lunch with me some time this week - I'll bring you along."

"I'll sit next to you. And hold your arm or something."

"Yeah. We'll let him guess it for himself, that something's going on."

"Is this bad, Harry?"

"What d'you mean? Is this bad news, or are we bad for having this conversation?"

"Both."

"It has led us here - good news. But we are probably terrible people for having this conversation, yes."

"I almost don't mind." She squeezed his hand almost imperceptibly tighter. He smiled.

"I don't either."


	11. Chapter 11

**AN:This is, sadly, the last chapter- sorry for no previous warning, I just feel that this fic has run it's course. You'll see what happens with Hermione and Harry, you'll see what Ron says... it'll all end soon. Sorry it's so short - I've tried thinking of a hundred ways I could honestly get this fic working again and really I just like my fluffy little ending where it is. :3 Enjoy! If you liked this check out my other fics, I've posted two new ones today and I'm on the way to posting four more. Enjoy!****

* * *

**"I owled Ronald. He's meeting us for dinner at eight with Neville, Luna, perhaps a few others. Is that fine?"

He nodded. "Of course. I'm not having a single drink tonight."

"I'm proud of it. Now, where should we go? I should find something to wear..."

Hermione had, the day before, brought over a bag of things. Since their profession of love to each other, the idea of not sleeping beside each other had become ridiculous, almost depressing. She'd attempted - she really had - but had instead apparated back into his flat with a rather large bag of things. She was apparently staying for more than the weekend. He didn't mind.

"I have a place in mind."

"Wizarding or no? You're forgetting, with Luna..."

"Right. Never mind. There's a new place in Diagon Alley... I'll owl them while you get ready." He watched her grab things from her bag, tossing shirts and skirts over her shoulder, and walk around the room twice before he finally stood and reached the door.

"Looking for something?"

"Harry please, I can't even remember what I'm trying to find! We're about to have dinner with Ron - who, if you hadn't noticed, believes I didn't leave him for you."

"Did you really leave him for me?"

She glared at him, he laughed. "That's beside the point. I did leave him and end up with you - it's going to look like it. He's going to be angry. It's why I skipped on your lunch last week. I wasn't ready."

"He knows you're living with me, you know."

Hermione dropped the pile of clothes tucked under her arm. "What are you talking about?" She hadn't looked so scared since the Mountain Troll incident.

"He's been by your place a few times - your wards still let him in, you know."

"I forgot about that... I left a note for anyone who might come looking for me..."

"And Ron did. Honestly, I think it'll be easier than you think."

"_You're _not the one that has to tell him." She shut the bathroom door just in front of Harry, and it took every bit of willpower not to laugh. She was right - as always.

* * *

It only took just over a minute from Ron's smile to turn into a grimace. Hermione had been expecting that she'd have at least an hour, but when Harry had insisted on sitting beside her and very openly holding her hand on the table - he practically forced her into it. Ron took one last look between the two of them before motioning to Hermione, who had been listening to Neville talk about a new plant strain he'd discovered that could cure Spattergroit faster.

"Hermione, I need to talk to you. Like, now." Hermione nodded, her hand finally released by Harry, who only looked down into his lap. She could see him solemnly trying to balance between laughing and biting his lip. It wasn't pretty.

Ron grabbed her by the same hand that Harry had held.

"Are you and Harry... together?"

"Ron, I..."

"Just give me a straight answer, please Hermione. I can't take the waiting."

"Yes, Ron. We are."

"Then you did leave me for Harry?"

"Yes and no. Originally, no - I just wanted to care for him. But we'd been together once in the past, before you and I even liked each other, it was... I couldn't stop it."

"Hermione, I really want to be mad at the both of you. I do. But... with how Harry's been? Getting dumped off by my sister, and finally stopping the drinking? I can't blame anyone."

"I shouldn't have done it. You... you're really a great guy Ron, we're just not great together."

"I need someone more... my speed, I think you're saying."

Hermione smiled, patting Ron on the shoulder. "Something like that. Harry and I are both very serious people."

"And I've still got some growing up to do. It's... fine. I'll get over it." He gave her a weak smile and lead her back to the table. Harry looked up as if to ask her, but said nothing.

Hermione only sat beside him, took his hand once more, and smiled across the table at Ron. In some twisted way, nothing could have made her happier than Ron understanding everything.

* * *

"Do you remember when I asked you what it would be like if we'd never met the Weasleys?"

He felt Hermione stiffen beside him. It had been a few months since that had been brought up - since the two of them got together, really.

"Yes."

"I've decided I'm glad we did. If we hadn't, Ron wouldn't have mucked up so bad - even in first year! - and we wouldn't have saved you from the troll, and..."

"I think I get it, Harry. Without whatever happened before... we wouldn't be where we are now. I know."

"I'm glad. Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"How different would this be if we'd never... been together before?" Christmas? Or before the war?"

"I don't really know. I don't think we'd have been together without that, either."

"Would you say that I get to blame this entire thing on firewhiskey?"

"Don't push your luck." She snuggled into his side and he responded only by pulling her in closer, chuckling.


End file.
